Full moon in a navy blue sky,
bright and dauntless, centered in the east.
A thin trace of clouds hangs there
lined in silver.
No occlusion, just a wisp
hardly covering that brave moon.
Like a sheer slip of satin and lace
over a breast so bold and unashamed.
Even with permission
I couldn’t reach out and trace it’s form
with trembling fingertips.
are simply too sacred.