1 In our smog-ridden suburbia
The moon is a pale-faced, sickly child
With a slate-like pallor, timid and shy,
Fitful and restless,
And prone to hiding, anxious and unheard,
Behind forests of tall, thin buildings.
2 A man has cast away the blanket
Of a fearful, choking childhood
As we flee the dazzle
Of many thousand insignificances.
He grows full-bodied and radiant,
Nourished by the unblemished plains below.
3 He carries many years of experience,
Observation and advice,
And the tranquillity of one who has learned
Not to interfere, but to guide gently,
To lead by example,
A glowing beacon above the seas in flux.
~ This piece likens the moon to a person in various phases of his life. I don’t think this is a new metaphor, but I wanted to use it in a new way. I tried to use this metaphor to emphasise different qualities I have noticed about the moon and respect about it in different locations. I have used the three stanzas to describe what I think are the moon’s traits in the city, out in the country (places where I have hiked), and over the ocean. I hope this is interesting and fresh!