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Phases of the Moon


The Harvest Moon shines in my upstairs window—all alone in the black sky. It shines on me at my computer and on my lover, sleeping a country away under its light.

He sees himself as a waning moon—well into the last quarter. I want more time. I want to slow the revolving earth down so that each day is longer. Our relationship is only beginning to wax; we need many more days of walks and talks for it to reach the fullness of this moon.

mid-life love
elusive as the man
in the moon

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Shirley Serviss, Modern Haiku, 41:2.


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