moon

Standing on a hill in the dead of night
looking up at the moon so silvery white and clean
reflecting all that light for all to see
you look so peaceful drifting across the sky
slowly I turn from your glare.

To stare down from the hill turning slowly your
light encases my shadow and unshaded leaves quiver within
the strays of light

Ahead of me the orange glow from the town below pierces the dark
I feel the disease of human activity
one day men will come to you with machines
to pillage your minerals and than they will export the rubbish
from here to you and your reflected light will be no more.