BY LAWRENCE HALL

Everybody writes about the moon

Often trying to force a balky rhyme 

Along the continuum of spoon and croon

Which just won’t fill the bill, the quill, or the time

But the moon is there, whether we write or not

Silver and cool, beyond our scribbled praise

In contrast to the sun, golden and hot

Promoting himself through all of summer’s days

Everybody writes about the moon

Who in her being is all the rhyme we need