With half a life lived in the dark,
an owl’s hoot, an answering bark,
the moon across the water scattered,
ragged clouds, wispy and battered,
I float in night and solitude,
the night determining my mood.
I lie in darkness and I brood,
a momentary interlude.
When sunlight comes in fits and starts,
The day brings out my other parts.
They rise in me from dawn to noon,
dispelling powers of the moon.
Thus balanced between dark and light,
each half consumes its daily bite.
I welcome each within its time—
life varied, balanced and sublime.
For Day 17 of NaPoWriMo, we are to write a poem about the moon.