The Fishing Moon

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 Earth

To hold to prove, ‘twas all not just a dream?