Under The Light Of The Full Moon Poem by Thia Stockman

I'm standing beside a lake,
the moon hovering high above me.
It's reflection rippeling through the water.
I look up,
only one cloud in the sky.
One beautiful cloud.
So perfectly held up by the moon,
it looks like it was painted there.
In a wonderful painting that brings tears to your eyes.

I hear the crickets curping around me,
the faint sound of the waves against the shore.
There is an owl somewhere off in the distance,
calling to me, speaking to me.
As if he is apart of this painting.

I feel the water hit the tips of my toes,
and I feel alive.
The cold waves wake my soul.
I sit down next to the shore,
I can feel the grass underneth me.
I lay down and stare at the sky.
The beautiful moon, and the painted cloud.