Last night, the full moon
hung like a papery lamp
over my quiet road.
I savoured the chilly sky –
the moon tagging my shadow.
(first published in The Unidentified Flying Omelette, ed. Andrew Fusek Peters, Hodder & Stoughton)
Moon, I know
you’re rather fickle –
not long ago
you were thin as a sickle
but look at you now –
It’s night’s high noon
and you’re fat and full
as a blown balloon.
Moon, your face
is made of light
and you hang like hope
against the night,
waxing, waning,
sometimes gone,
always changing,
moving on.
The light of the moon
On a clear clear night
Brings out the Fish
But not to bite
Leaping out of the water
Higher each time
Teasing the fishermen
Is not a fish crime?
Meeting in the river
Holding fish school
Teaching the young ones
How not to be fooled
Big ones and small ones
Middle-sized fish
None of these beauties
Will end up on a dish
By the light of the moon
On a bright clear night
Not one fish caught
Not one little bite
The moonlight shines brightly
casting dancing shadows afar.
A tiger prowls past
Creeping into the night.
Just behind a tree
a crouching black mystery
seems to be stalking
me in the deep,
dark, black night shadows.
But as I draw
closer and closer surprise!
For the black mystery
Isn’t a scary thing.
As the dancing moonlight
shines ever so brightly.
Then I see revealed
our dog Elmo hiding
behind a dark tree.
Elmo crouches and waits
to doggy surprise me
in the night so
that I’m never alone.
Australian Children’s Poetry 