The Moon Combs her Hair

The argent-silver moon combs her hair

At the varnished clear lake mirror below;

Caught the poor sun in a snare

With her hair flowing in lavander glow.

 

Before dawn breaks, she goes to sleep

Behind the huge sky where colors cry;

When the sun shines with uninterrupted sweeps

Spears of light streak through the sky.

 

When evening comes, he goes to sleep

To dream again of her ashen face;

To rise again and with colors weep,

While she is asleep in her place.

 

Slowly his eyes are shut to sleep,

The stars rejoice & dance all night;

Showering silvery glitter for her to keep,

Heaven-trotting stars that make dark light.

 

The moon poses in her silver spotlight

For the sun to see her again;

Baring all her beauty in the moonlight,

She combs her hair with the rain.