Moonlight

The moon hangs low tonight,

quiet as a thought not yet spoken.

Her light hovers over rooftops

and sifts through the cracks in curtains,

touching everything gently,

not to change it,

just to be near.

She doesn’t chase the stars,

or command the sky.

She drifts, slow and sure,

as if she’s always known the way.

The trees don’t reach for her.

They simply stand

and let her light settle on their leaves.

The wind hushes

as if not to disturb the calm.

She shines, 

but only with the light the sun gives her. 

She glows anyway.

Somewhere, someone is awake,

watching the same glow

thinking of nothing

and everything.

And the moon,

without asking for praise,

simply glows,

enough.