Going in one direction, always,
The moon knows to follow
All over the sky, they wander,
They are scattered wherever you
Happened to toss them.
Depending on your mood,
As different from where you are
Tonight, as from last.
The moon stays close on the trail of a dream.
The sun plods so,
Like cows to and from the barn in single file,
Seeking food, relief from bursting udders,
Demanding, urgent needs, both,
Realistic compulsions, even,
I don’t think the sun has had a creative thought,
An enchanting dream,
In its entire existence.
The moon follows dreams.
Trout follow the hint of a tasty fly
Floating just out of their reach,
Just beyond the surface.
The moon knows both
And the ripple.