I watch the moon
Tracing its silvery path            Trying to gain
Across the sky.                     The upper hand.

I feel the essence of time          But more joyful by far
Slip by,                            Than anything of man
                                    Is that quiet moment
The calm of the moment
Settling over me like               In the light
A well-worn cloak                   Of a star.

Fills me with solace,                    --The Wandering Bard--
Still as an oak.                            October 21, 1994

I have watched nature,
I have watched man,
Always the latter