Hold me in the hollow
of the waxing crescent moon,
in the halo of the memory of day,
let me cruise as softly
toward the dark horizon’s hills,
soothed in my sweet hammock’s gentle sway

Stars have been infrequent
in this recent time of year  –
rain has owned the music of the night,
but frogs will sing for rain or stars,
and I –
I’ll take in either with delight.

©Wendy Mulhern
May 3, 2022