The Unschooled Moonlight Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Ripples of empty bottles
Crenellate across the forgotten tracks
Where the elk have shed their
Crowns- beginning to think of death
As a friend across the caesuras
Of the mountain,
With absolutely no reason to believe
In the lighthouse that shines its
Beacon forever relentlessly across
The enlightened faces of
The proceeding valley-as the preacher
Gives sermons to the pew of his identity-
The rest is left to misgivings,
As the rains encounter the graveyards,
And the latchkeys run away once again
To the cerulean playgrounds
Stealing forever in the unschooled moonlight.