PALE MOON RISING

Just because you can't see it doesn't mean it's not there

Back in the ash grove where her house used to be
see a pale moon rising in an evening sky;
hear the coyotes calling as the moon soars high
in the still November air

spiking a moonbeam through a shadowy glen
when a lone light glimmers 'neath an ancient tree -
then the old souls gather in a memory
with the stones assembled there

someone's returning through the long lonely years,
tears, toils and yearning turning gold with the leaves...
then the pale moon rising calls the heart that grieves
to the ones awaiting where

there's a Home forever fair...

in the dust that lingers there