Rainbow Gift
The moon is a rock,
a rock that drives the tide.
The affairs of men
must heed the tide.
An old Moon woman told me that,
I didn’t listen,
talking in runes
I concluded.
But the tide in the affairs
of this man
left me high and dry
waiting for a new moon.
Sat marooned, sat in the offing,
bobbing in the
Sea of Tranquillity.
Another man in the moon.
We are a close knit
community,
keep ourselves to ourselves
as much as we can.
Sometimes when the sun’s
brute sirocco blasts things go haywire,
but you got to take the rough
with the smooth sometimes,
whether you remember
the smooth or not.
Grimbeau 