Ode to Sleeping Moon
By Brooke James
Hey moon, up in the sky!
When you get sleepy, where will you lie?
I saw you once at rest in the trees.
But then you were gone. Was it the breeze?
Some nights you float just over the river.
Yet still waters won’t hold – not even a sliver.
The bridge might cradle you, snug in its stays.
But could you sleep? Have you watched how it sways?
I’ve seen you slide down the state house dome.
Is that roof too slippery to call your home?
There are always the fences that you drift by,
But black cats have claimed them; centurions of the sky.
You could tuck in ‘neath a blanket of mist.
Though your covers would melt when first sun-kissed.
Hey moon, up in the sky!
When you get sleepy, where will you lie?
Maybe you’ll sink down into the sea.
But then you’d be so far from me.
I want you near, in a place we can share.
Would you consider Peabody Square?
Sleeping Moon, with sculptor Joseph Wheelwright, at home on Ashmont Station Plaza, Peabody Square. Photo by Judy Tuttle
