Catching The Moon

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The crow black
dropped his sack
at my dusty feet

As the sun beat down
on the dying ground
even the desert had to shy away

A single hooded eye
that told no lie
pierced my very soul!

And a cracked voice spoke
a riddle to evoke
from the haze of a distant dream

“Catch the Moon!
Catch it soon!
Before thine end …”

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Something a little different from the norm, I know … © Pete Hillman 2017