Mother Moon

© Copyright Russell Atkinson, 2010

From round to crescent, glistening bright,

you calm daughter of the night,

seem supreme, beyond our cares,

sailing silent, your rarer airs.

But as wife of this blue sphere,

you are busy with your housework here;

pulling seas and oceans about,

moving atmospheres in and out,

affecting the life of we clever fools,

you govern the flow of molecules.

It is you who know,

when to reap and when to sow,

you, mistress of our mind,

beat the rhythms of our kind,

dance the water in the rills,

move in and out the fish's gills;

by you all liquid things are sent,

for water is your element.

Full or new, how busy you,

with the earth since time's begun

you set the clocks with brother sun

and let them run.

Amazing! Wonder of all time!

Growing from primeval slime,

and from the chaos that gave it birth,

man now walks the planet earth.