A Quiet Moon

A quiet moon

A howl upon the dead cold air
allows the moon to seem quiet;
for tonight the moon seems unusually quiet.
A running flash through the darkness
is a hound--two by two like a hare he runs; his ears
flop and flop in the dead black air.
The moon remains so quiet—
muddled by clouds that wont last.
They will never last.
Ponder I do; upon
another beautiful elemental structure:
she too may howl in the cold dead black air.
A cry that would be barely discernible for the unobservant.
But loud like a kind oracle for those who watched.
Her softness and soul ring a trueness
like a moon with astuteness—
she remains in the background unnoticed.
She is
muddled by society, especially for those who
care not to care.
--
The howl by the basset is real;
with a desire to connect with the moon
that continues to shine:
a moon we all share.
It may go unnoticed.
Like a hare--the basset does run,
joyous in the moon’s light.