You Crazy Ball
In my child’s mind you were so close
I could have reached out and touched you,
with your pock marked skin, cratered and worn,
mares like parchment stretching for miles and miles.
Helios has retreated for the night,
though his glow still unabashedly bathes you,
and you give it away unselfishly,
as we foment all manner of mishief undercover.
Ptolemy, Galileo, and Nicolaus measured you,
just as you have measured us
with seasons, tides, and crop cycles all mapped,
while Giordano, murdered by ignorance, gave his life for you.
Your fullness, voluptuous and wanton,
your crescent, mysterious and provocative.
We will not go gently into your night
you crazy ball, instead, we’ll be howling.
As the Mopoke creased the night with call,
I lay looking at you and your ancient friends.
Soothed, assured, by your presence,
your strong silence is like a comforting lullaby for me.