Wiser Than The Moon


I told her when the sun goes down
a red light licks your cheek,
and what the sad mosquitoes sing
the nightingale repeats.

In short, I told her secrets,
the whispers of my heart,
I praised the silver beauty
her subtlety imparts,

but she had noticed all these things,
and other wonders, too,
yet hung a bitter sliver...
I am wiser than the moon,

for I am drawn to loving,
capable of surprise,
and I can turn my face to full
when looking in your eyes.


Donald Zirilli
November 3, 2000