The moon is a reflection in
the eyes of night people.
A silver casting from above draws
over dark ground, forming gray shadows
on the leeward side of standing objects.
A flat moon face gazes into our
small space where we huddle, looking up,
wondering the distance and how to get back.
Reflections grace over a smooth river moving,
a puddle from rain, windows without shades,
the hood of a car and my glasses.
Roger Singer 