Paper Moon

There is a paper moon shining on me.

White and small

and glossy.

The kind that smiles when it would rather

cry.

The kind that bends down low in the summer

and lets its bottom hang

out

on to the fields,

and streams

and squirrels

and bees.

The kind that sizzles in the water,

but never makes a sound.

A brave moon.

A warrior of sorts,

casting light

where there never was light before.

A moon that says, “fear not”

for there is always hope,

even if it is as thin as paper

and could blow away
in an instant.