To Love the Moon

by BunnyHugger

The sun demands love,
Blazing with brash beauty,
Trailing peacock feathers across the liminal sky.
We cannot help admiring the sun,
Not so long as it spills its light
Over everything precious to us.

To love the moon is a choice.
It shies back, revealing itself only
To the owl-eyed poets who search the dark for silver,
Preferring it to gold.
Our eyes shrink as the sun batters them with glory,
But they widen and deepen to receive
The moon’s gentle light.

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