The moon hung low in the sky
not quite half in size and glowing
like a neon sign for wayward astronauts.
A big pine tree backlit by a street light
raised its spikey boughs beneath as
though stretching to brush electric
confetti from the crescent surface.
The dog and I meander down
the street, he sniffing for the perfect place
to pee, toenails clicking like ghosts
tapping on a window and I thinking
about you and me under the same moon
on the same planet but, really, more than
worlds apart.
Charlotte Hamrick 
Beautifully written
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love this –> “glowing
like a neon sign for wayward astronauts”
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mmm and that makes all the difference in the world….proximity…
the match has to be near the wood to catch flame…
all that potential can be painful.
really nice description of the night…the nails like ghosts is cool…
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Thanks to you all for reading and commenting. I’m glad you like it.
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Those simple aching truths, caught in this gem of yours.
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