Moons make me think of Sylvia; but, since Sylvia’s had her turn for a time, here is one of Strand’s moons today.
from The Prediction / by Mark Strand
That night, the moon drifted over the pond,
turning the water to milk, and under
the boughs of the trees, the blue trees,
a young woman walked, and for an instant
the future came to her
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Writer & Visual Artist
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