Where Luna treads are silver threads, the wisps of clouds that slide
through sky of night, and shining white, they part so she might glide
serenely through dark twilight’s blue with slow and regal grace.
And to our world, with aspect pearled, she turns a beaming face.
She casts her glow on those below who love her mystery. . .
who reverence her as with allure, she dances on the sea.
The lovers sigh as by and by, the night fades into day.
And in their dreams she softly gleams before she slips away.
For Caren Krutsinger's 'A Contest About a Goddess or God - Not THE God' Poetry Contest