The Fishing Moon
There's a tale once told of a little lass,
Who wants to play with the stars in the sky.
She travels near and far. She seeks the help
Of the fairy brood, and they tell her to climb
The stairs without steps. So she climbs, up and up
The rainbow, higher and higher, until she grasps
At stardust, falling, down and down and down,
She wakes in her bed, and as she opens her eyes,
She doubts for a moment, and thinks ‘twas all a dream,
But she finds her fist is clenched, and as she opens
Her hand, a tiny flash of light escapes.
She knows her dream was real, for she did play
Among the stars in the sky, and brought a piece
Of their world into her own. Could it be
The moon and her sister stars have such a tale,
Where their true wish is to descend and play?
That staring down from high in the sky, they see
The sea, and its water raging, or do they see
Themselves reflected when the coast is clear,
And the waves are calm, and wish that it were so,
And not a refracted illusion erasing the distance?
If it were real, and we could see such things
From our perspective, would we see the rays
Of the moon’s light, shining bright, to light
The night? Would we catch sight of a line pulled tight
And think, could I be right, and might the moon
Be fishing out there in the sea? Could she
Be trying to bring home a piece of EarthTo hold to prove, ‘twas all not just a dream?