Hanging in the open,
the Moon coughed and didn’t turn her head.
How disgusting I am,
she thought, as the mist settled over the world.

Maybe they’ll just think that it’s moondust—just me shedding my magic down on them.

The Moon was a lonely thing, now.
The stars shone bright before all the humans lit up the land.
Now, it’s so hard to see them.
But the Moon outshines even the artificial lights.

Now the stars flew further back and up into the atmosphere.
They were already so far away from her.

Sometimes when the wind blows and shakes the land
and is so loud…
she’ll weep quietly.

Now only airplanes join her in the night sky.
Except on a beautiful rare occasion where she rises too early
or the Sun sets too late.
They acknowledge each other,
tip a hat, make cocktail conversation.

The Sun makes good drinks,
even if they’re only given fifteen minutes to connect.

But the sweet Moon trudges on,
though alone,
because where can she escape to?
She’s already high in the sky.