Moonrise

 

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There is a place you can go,

When the moon rises round.

To the end of the pier,

Riverside in this town.

 

If you get the right night,

The lake is alive with chop.

And the moon hits the water,

Shooting arcs of silver, wave-top.

 

You meet a father

And the boy without sight.

When  the full moon calls them down

He is blind, to everything but lake-light.

 

You observe and you wonder,

At the moonlight shining down.

And the boy dancing riverside

On  the pier in this town.

 

Poem by David Spence.

Image by Ann Ivy Male.

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