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The moon was a wraith-silver disc hanging in the lonely sky.
Lasers of moonlight, as bright as diamond-flame, turned the sea a-glow like melted platinum. It was as if I was watching a scene from an old fable stepping off the page and I was beguiled by its beauty.
The Chinese called the May moon the dragon moon and I could see why.
The waves were a-glitter like curved scales and I want to be lost in the haunting lullaby of their swell and sigh.
The wet, desolate streets of the city rested in silence as the starry black sky wept over i
