ISIS MOON

Blue gray clouds in wispy strands,
Brushing their feathery
fingertips,
On the beauty of an Isis moon,
Straining to kiss her
silver lips.
Full and cold so pale her visage,
Glistening in the
winter sky,
The darkening night her swirling garb,
The clouds still touch and
still they try.
One last caress before the dawn,
One last kiss they of
her beseech,
Speeding before and after her,
They plead those icy lips
they reach.
For just a fleeting moment small,
The cloud and Isis
meet to love,
Her face is shadowed a second long,
He is left still hovering
she rises above.
Still he clings, arms around her face,
As she glides through the
midnight sky,
A glittering diamond on her brow,
Hearing not his yearning,
mournful cry.
He sheds eventually his sorrow great,
Withering away in
trails of haze,
At last alone she shines in dark,
All heavens gathered
in her gaze.

~Sujata~

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