Child Moon

Child Moon
THE CHILD’S wonder
At the old moon
Comes back nightly.
She points her finger
To the far silent yellow thing
Shining through the branches
Filtering on the leaves a golden sand,
Crying with her little tongue, “See the moon!”
And in her bed fading to sleep
With babblings of the moon on her little mouth.

Carl Sandburg (1878–1967). Chicago Poems. 1916.



This is the little moon that the Man-Cub and I saw while we were out with Jack before bedtime Saturday evening - it was hazy and very pretty - and it reminded me of Sandburg's poems about the Moon - so we came in and looked this one up before bed.

Later some bad storms blew in - I thought about getting up and trying to get a picture of some lightening - but turned over and went back to sleep instead...