A simple poem about the moon.
I wrote this during a class on poetry that I was teaching for Cat Rambo’s excellent writing academy. (There’s a ton of classes available there–if it’s the kind of thing you do, you should check them out.)
I think the writing exercise was something like, “You can find poetry where you look for it.” The night before, the moon had been a heavy, looming harvest orange.
I’ve always liked traditional stories that depict the moon as a lonely woman. I wonder if that was in the back of my head.
