They really exist, especially the night
before full, raining down light
as if it’s noon,

the palm tree shadow on the lawn
so distinct the camera picks it up,
renders it faux day,

though it’s not yet 2 a.m., clouds
shrouding the moon, so it’s not
its brightest self,

but still so reflective of the sun
far below the horizon,
the faithful light

leapin’ and hoppin’
on a moonshadow,
as it so gloriously

shines.

•••

(for Deborah Meltvedt, my Cat Stevens-loving friend)

•••