As the world gets dark
The world gets quiet.
But the lake still stirs,
And the crepe myrtle blossoms
Its summer colors.
As a bird soars overhead
Another one calls
In hope of a mate.
And amongst the ripples of water,
A turtle
Bobs its head out,
Then it dips its head back under
To plunge for food
In the murky water.
As the moon rises higher
And higher,
The clouds shift,
And move.
Taking turns
To cover
The pale white
Of the moon,
Hiding the moon’s beauty
To take for their own.
Now,
Not a creature stirs
As a storm settles in.
It whisks the leaves off trees,
A strike,
BAM
then
BOOM
Yet
The moon
Is still there,
Giving light to the ground
With the help of piercing streaks
From the clouds.
Rain pours,
And the animals hide.
As more clouds settle,
The moon becomes
Harder
And harder
To see.
Its beauty
Shunned away.
Tomorrow,
When the world gets dark,
And the world gets quiet,
Will the moon show?
Or will the clouds,
Yet again,
Hide it
Away?