When night falls on Earth,
millions of eyes turn to me, bask
in my brilliance. Lovers together kiss
in my light or, separate, look
on my face, stifle their howls. Poets
write verse upon verse in fascination,
never wanting for words, inspired or trite.
(Boo to cynics who laugh at their efforts.)
Witchy ones stir their potions when I’m full
and rich and rolling across their sky, claim
I cast spells over mortal and beast.
But I am only a piece of rock in a vast expanse
with no more magic than any other. Slowly
I turn my face away, seek refuge for a while
from Earthly eyes and imaginings, leaving
only a silvery spine in the dark, a ghostly
smile with a promise to return.
*****
Napowrimo Day 17 prompt: “Today, I’d like you to challenge you to write a poem that similarly presents a scene from an unusual point of view.”
Image: “Moon Circles” by Sonya Genel
Charlotte Hamrick 
Oh–lovely! I am such a morning person, but I’m moon-obsessed, too. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m also a morning person but I love to watch the phases of the moon.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Kindred spirits!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Magic is in the eye of the beholder. Like Merril, moon-obsessed is just about right.
and the art! pure magic! (K)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks! I loved the art, too. Thanks to Pinterest!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. This made me laugh.
Poets
write verse upon verse in fascination,
never wanting for words, inspired or trite.
(Boo to cynics who laugh at their efforts.)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Really! When I see an Editor (and I have!) bemoan poets writing about the moon I just laugh at them.
LikeLike