you can think only of
lost love.
When moonlight’s like cream,
you count your blessings—
and lose count.
Under a full moon’s harsh light,
you howl sotto voce.
Waning moonlight’s numinous,
lulling overworked angels
to sleep.
And in the dark of the moon,
no light at all, darkness
begins to glow.
Then anything seems possible—
even love.
Don Thompson has been writing about the San Joaquin Valley for over fifty years, including a dozen or so books and chapbooks. For more info and links to publishers, visit his website at www.don-e-thompson.com.