Prying Moon

Sweet, prying moon
all silver and lace.
where last midsummer
did you find her?

She loves to watch you fall
a token of promise,
surely you spied her
gazing up from a midnight garden
the small creatures tugging at her skirt
and she tugging up at you.

Indeed, I saw her.

In a bath of my light she was lifted
in the rise of swelling tides,
of a gushing breast, she rose
close enough, nearly,
to graze my silver and lace.