The rising moon between the hills gives nothing away,
but is a mute observer of the ending of the day.
Shadows moving through the grass eventually lie
quiet as the full moon ascends higher in the sky.
Then night birds weave a lullaby from their bill and croon
as broken clouds join shoulders to pass before the moon.
Space seems to reach its arms out and throw time away
as all of eternity comes to hold its sway.
We take a small vacation to join it in our dreams,
stitched into eternity within creation’s seams.
For the Sunday Swirl Wordle 572 the prompt words are: moon between throw time give nothing rising lull space broken mute shadow