Cruising through a late afternoon
Of cirrus churn in bluest sky
Was the waxing of the quarter moon
To beam delight into my eye!
The clouds blew past in wispy streaks
With gossamer tendrils hanging down
To brush fair Luna's cratered cheeks...
As if to mollify a frown.
Yet she was chin up into the west
And did not need the cloud's embrace
Since she knew that she was meteor blessed
Albeit in her craggy face,
Glowing now...with old angel dreams...
And atom powered halo beams!