Moonless
Mary Redman
After dark, I wandered barefoot across the lawn in hopes to see your storied light upon the grass and threading through the leafy trees. Instead, dark dampness greeted me, the scent of earth alive with growth and waning warmth of an April night. Only the streetlights cast their glow, and airplanes dashed like winking stars, but I never saw that silver sheen that turns the darkness into day and casts steep shadows across the ground. I never found that elusive orb to inspire my weary, tongue-tied song.
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