OUR MOON

I don’t often write poetry but if I’m ever going to September seems to be the month for it. This one’s brought on by the autumn equinox which is today. It hasn’t quite landed and I’ll probably tinker around with it some more but for now here it is.

Photo by Flickr on Pexels.com

OUR MOON

Oh, there it is.

The new moon rises early, curvaceous among the chimney pots.

Along that road, basements are being dug, extensions extended

But the sky, this moon is ours.

Through another window, the tube rattles past,

The carriages empty,

Light on the tracks.

Like bandits,

From the bus, masked faces peer

Into the living room.

I smile and wave, hoping their eyes crease

In the corners.

Then you shout from the kitchen,

‘Come quickly. The moon is changing colour!’