The Moon-Mother

Night beckons stealthily,
Deep mysteries of the inner mind.
And wraps in her dark arms,
Pain and pleasure,
Of infinite measure,
So she may toss it,
Unto a Higher plain.
Where a peppered sky stares,
Indulgent and alert,
At a world lost deep in slumber.
And cradles a spotted globe,
Dressed in pristine robes,
As she looks about,
With innocent wonder.