Waxing moon/July 28
How many times we all cooed at
the newborn moon, cradled
in the ghostly arms of the Sycamore
we oohed, we ahhed, we sighed—
moonstruck
Tonight the waxing moon’s gotten herself
tangled in the twisty-fingered Sweet Gum
just outside my new window
I ooh, I ahh, I sigh—
still moonstruck

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