Woolf moon
Her silent scream
Mounts from the horizon
To fill the night sky
Her ruddy tint shows
She was successful
In her kill tonight
Super moon
As she climbs
The night mountain
She cleans herself
And takes her place
Disdainful and contemptuous
Of the world below her
For she knows
There is no rival
In existence to compete
With her serenity.
Lucette C. Bailliet
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