The Fingernail Moon The fingernail moon hangs silently in the dim night sky Waning, waiting To place upon the sleeping sun It's heavy thumbprint of divinity. A faint wind sighs in the east, Swallows scatter from the treetops in uneasiness As though its sharp corners could waiver and fall Slicing through the innocence of their animal hearts. Hours (or eternities) later It yawns and winks out of existence Making way for that brightest star to Light the dawn, warm the creatures That dare to blink in its Brilliance, And soothe the wind that blows westward. Thus, the cycle of life drones on… By Dorothy Wire.