GLOWING SAYIDDA

There are nights when the moon

wastes no time.

She surrenders to our call.

Shows her waxing white.

Stays.

But sometimes, Sayidda Moon,

a glowing lady,

will not cooperate.

That milk-bellied lady

refuses to reveal herself.

When she gets willful,

I wonder:

Is she up there laughing

at our ways?

Then there are nights like this one

when that moon is a trickster.

She peeks,

then hides,

forcing us to guess

if we need

to keep up

with the ox bell,

the drumbeat,

the shout-out-loud

call

that will bring her into view

until sunrise announces

night’s farewell.