The moon tonight, over Little Bay

Is a powdered pink color

Floating just above the treetops

Somehow, it does not reflect

In the dark waters of Little Bay

I had never seen a pink moon:

There have been meteor showers, rising

At two in the morning, wrapped in fleece blankets

To watch them, but never before

A pink moon

There have been bright, pumpkin harvest moons

And nights lit by the stars alone, or by the most

Narrow slivers of white moon hovering just above

The city lights, but there has never been

A pink moon

That moon fills me with a bitter,

Hot desire to never leave, to watch

It as it fades into the sunrise, and into the

Endless blue sky

Above Little Bay