A sonnet of moonbeam,
a moonie for a son.
Hey Salkind and Salt, too!

Once young peeple gathered
we magicked the world
to shape a future out of the Cold

We demand no more curtains
No poppets, no straw men, no g-men
Mother nature's calling

She cries out daily
for her children
the moon, her star -the Sun

Earth magic and wishes alone
can no longer fill the breach
of promises too long forgotten

Let her rip,
like a lioness
Roaring at the injustice of her first ****