The Distant Misty Moon

By John I. Blair

The distant misty moon
Rode low on the horizon,
Half lost in valley haze,
While morning traffic rushed
Along the freeway.

I glanced toward the moon,
The shallow marsh, the trees,
And could have been
At any time and place
But where I was.

Then I turned straight ahead
And snapped to now, six lanes
Of roaring trucks and cars,
Another day when moons
Seemed scarcely consequential.

©2004 John I. Blair