The Poetry of Alfhild Berg Salls
Oh, Moon, you silvery orb of yesteryear
Whose beauty stirs men's hearts to poetry.Can you still hold that magic and appear
To cast your sweet enchantment over me?We can no longer dream of what you're made-
Your dusty hills and hollows are laid bare.The astronauts your jagged rocks have weighed
And gathered up your soils and samples rare.As I observe you, (slyly, I confess)
Through lacy branches etched against your face,Your light casts shadows with a soft caress,
Your glow enlivens every hidden space.I trust, therefore, since you are still the same,
You will continue to enhance love's game!
Alfhild J. SallsSONNET
To Moonlight
