The paper- white moon Paper thin Hangs in the powder blue sky A clean saucer with Milky white edge Due East Against a sky to the West Alight with evening glow Ghostly grey shapes rise South West Cauliflower topped rising to steep anvils Flame -laced as singed by blacksmith’s forge Like galleons broadside for battle Clear silhouettes of Naked trees Behind which the moon now rises ‘The road ‘is’ a ribbon of moonlight’ Words loved and familiar come to the fore Tonight the owl will fly It’s call will be sharp in the October air Highwaymen still may ride The light will see them home.
My Devon Life 