The Nighthawk

The moon shone red as the metal crate
hurdled across the sky
and the nighthawk asked the swallow,
โ€œDo you know what it is to die?โ€

The swallow flew quick figure eights
and the cylinder shot right on
โ€œThe moon has been struck a glancing blow
and his light will soon be gone.โ€

The nighthawk flew his spiral
around the figure eight,
โ€œI am Apolloโ€™s evening spear
You share the lunar fate.โ€

The plane shot out of earshot
but the chuckle carried far,
โ€œThe moon will dance in darkest death,
and then outshine the stars.โ€

All Poems โ†’

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