Moonrise
The low evening sun aims its beams at the mountaintop
After we climbed to the peak to see a full moon.
But the west is still a band of orange twilight with a gently glowing sun
Which began as a circle then narrowed
To a thin wafer on the shelf of the horizon
Then dipped and vanished like it sank in the ocean.
And the full moon climbs in the east above
The pinpricks of city lights, getting higher and brighter.
The moon turns white as a wiffleball as we take the trail downhill.
They turn on their headlamps but I leave the group and turn mine off
So the moonlight can be my guardian and show me through the sage
And the stones until we meet at a bar and drink cold beer and
Talk about the things we saw on a mountaintop at moonrise.
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