A Message from the Moon

Rolling around
Trolling above the clouds
Looking way down
On the things in my spectrum of view.
Rising above a pumpkin patch
Shining a little light 
On the alien lilacs in bloom.

My little rocks must think it queer
To float without an atmosphere,
Revolving on inertial gears, 
All winded several billion years ago.

It's rare
That I ever care 
To address little affairs
That take place on the surface below.
Sneaking around 
Creeping behind the peaks
Looking down on
All the lives as they come and they go.

I've seen summer in a snowy shroud,
A mortar flying through the clouds,
Some drifting dandelion seeds,
A badger cub on falcons' wings,
A rider on a mountain trail,
A vineyard tended by a snail, 
And crabs that travel miles and miles 
To feast upon the carcass of a whale.