TÁ AN GHEALACH AG BRIONGLÓIDÍ
( The Moon is Dreaming )


I smiled
at the daytime moon.

All my life I had been
a lover of daytime moons.

A little piece of magic
hung up in a sky

as if the moon
had shaken off its nighttime

moorings and sailed
into our day.

"Hey mister...mister!
a kid's voice

breaking into
my moon reverie.

"You've lost
yer moon!"

"?"  I puzzled

But sure enough
there was my moon

rolling down the hill
before happily plopping

itself into a nice
generous puddle.

I had rescued it it
from a charity shop

and knew it would glow
in the dark for my daughter.

Although its Day-go surprise
couldn't be guessed at now.

It seemed happy enough
to be mud splattered

and acting as if
it were king of its puddle.

The kid pulled it
from its happiness

and punted it with
a fine Garry Owen

that I just about
managed to hold on to.

It's dark side was
a bit cracked.

I rolled a pound
back down the hill

which was 50p
more that I paid for it.

The kid just beamed
"Gee thanks mister!"

Later that night
the moon hung

and twirled
on its string

above my daughter's
dreaming head

dreaming of its
own adventures

gazing at
the full moon in the sky.