God tossed a moon up in the air.
It passed through the Milky Way,
swung by Jupiter,
scraped the iron rocks on Mars,
and hovered ever so briefly
over the horizon as I gazed
at an Autumn sunset.

Not a quarter moon,
not a half-quarter moon,
but a quarter-quarter moon,
a sliver of white and silver
cradling a sky of orange and green
and blue and the white of the
town�s water tower.

Hung like a boomerang frozen in mid-flight.
Half-hid three streaks of black and gray
streaming from planes as they skimmed the sky.
Grinned at the sun sinking into the corn fields.

Its smile evaporated as the mist of evening
engulfed the edges of its lips,
then swallowed its silverness,
swallowed its whiteness,
swallowed its darkness,
and shrouded my clarity of vision.

- Bob Miller