Moonrise
I walked with my little boy
Holding hands
Down the backcountry road
At summer fullmoon rise.
The moon was just over
The ragged eastern hills.
“Pretty moon,” my son said gravely.
We walked down a hill
And the moon disappeared.
“Moon gone Daddy,”
He said anxiously.
“That’s OK,” I said
“It will come back soon.”
And as the road climbed
A little hill, it did,
Nestled in dark tree limbs.
“Moon back,” said my boy,
“It’s a miracle.”
“Yes,” I said firmly,
“Yes, it is.”
— Andrew Hubbard, Nashville
