Michael Keshigian: THE MOON

just hung there

slightly above the horizon

donning a wry smile

against darkened backdrop

its anemic white garb

resembled a freshly cut fingernail

found on the black desktop.

I tossed my cap

towards its lower point,

beyond reach of the trees,

landing it gracefully

like a Frisbee on a finger,

wondering

how did the cow jumped over

this slightly cocked glow

without bumping its head

on the unseen portion?

The iridescent float winked

to share such sport

but startled I turned

to watch the cat

play the fiddle

till the dish came home

with the spoon.

Copyright Michael Keshigian. Reprinted here by kind permission of the author.