A lonely moon rose slowly through the trees--
A giant paper lantern
In frosty haughtiness,
Witness to a million stories
It's never told.
It kept its icy silence once again,
But whispered to the cats
That if they watched closely,
They might see a mouse.
He made the moon to mark the seasons;
the sun knows its time for setting.
You make darkness, and it is night,
when all the beasts of the forest creep about.
--Psalm 104:19-20, ESV
Photo public domain and poem ©2010 James L. Swindle