Day Moon

She rests

big and fluffy

in the sunny sky

like a shapely cloud,

or a white balloon

left to dangle forgotten

after floating away 

from the crowd.

Her head, held

at a sleepy angle,

ignores 

or seems to miss

the two ducks 

that start up suddenly

and fly across

her dreaming face,

and the small jet

powering above her

(perhaps so high

that it just looks little)

with the silver sparkle

radiating

from its slim body

of bright metal.

I too am out

in the clear afternoon

on this lazy, dozey,

pretty Spring day.

I too can wangle

some time for myself

just to be; then to scribble

of escape, of play.

30 Poems in 30 days, 9: a poem that includes at least three words that end with ‘gle’

Journalling my relationship with the moon: 14