I know what the moon knows
In the frozen night
When the wind mourns through the trees
She holds her secret tight
I know what the moon knows
Behind her clever smile
She fails to hide behind her glow
Within her maiden wiles
I know what the moon knows
Though she will never tell
She thinks her grief perpetual
Behind her tidal swell
I know what the moon knows
Grief is only for the night
For when the sun ignites the sky
She must concede the fight
I know what the moon knows
When the gloaming is anew
Though mourning last a hundred years
Joy will yet break through
Tina Bausinger 
Really great. One day, if I ever figure out this blog thing Mitchell got me and expects me to complete the set up, I might send you some poems,, but I wouldn’t hold my breath. Love yours.
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Tina, your poetry amazes and delights me! And I’m picky! I am going to start a folder to save some of these, like this one and the dirt poem. (Not to mention your awesome Europe pictures. Then there are your tantalizing recipes and your wonderful book. Is there anything you can’t do???)
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Aww, Robyn! Thank you. And yes, there is lots I can’t do.
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