The full moon looks down
at us
standing in front of the stone church.
The night is clear and cold,
As we read 144 names
of people from our state who were killed in Iraq
The moon knows
That we cannot see
The lakes of tears.
The traffic
at this busy corner
is unnoticed.
The moon has witnessed
our deeds
since history began.
O moon,
do you care?
Jon Robison Poetry 