Yasmine Haldeman

I stare out my window;
To the left there is bird shit,
To the right there is a church tower,
And in the middle,
Rising through slate grey clouds streaked
With midnight blue,
Is you.

Tonight you are nearly full.
In sync with my cycle,
You have me disturbed,
Stirring in my bed,
Watching as your butter-yellow light
Hits my eyes through fluttering branches,
And sluggishly moves out of sight.