I look to the moon

And stare into its yellow light

Hoping and wondering if it will divulge its secrets

And tell me of a woman long ago.

A mother, a wife crying in the light of its gaze.

But it sat quietly,

As I am sure it did back then,

Not uttering a sound.

Shining stoically as it watches over the Earth.

Not interfering.

Not comforting.

Not judging.

Simply watching.

A woman crying in the night.

C.M.Dunn