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Tidal Moon

by Mary Brunini McArdle

Although I know you are a globe,
Tonight you seem more like a coin,
A twenty-five cent piece, one side to me-
The eagle and the laurel leaf
Tipped over, leaning just enough
So that his wings are drooping down,
His eye on the unwary Earth below.

They think you are the moon,
At the height of your proximity,
Enhanced in size, in orbit close;
I see that you’re a raptor
With a wreath between his talons,
And a silver beak ready to tear
The sea from its foundations.

Copyright © 2006 by Mary Brunini McArdle

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