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.



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