Draft in the author’s style. This poem was written for Poet of Bedtime Hush to sit beside the author’s own readings, and is waiting for the author’s review. The commentary is a working draft too.
The moon clocked in at dusk to start her silver night shift,
With a lantern for a badge and a cloud she used to drift.
She checked on every rooftop and every sleeping stair,
And slipped a strip of glimmer through each window with care.
She hushed the barking dogs with a beam across the lawn,
And told the restless crickets that the day was truly gone.
She weighed the worries of the world and found them light as air,
So she dropped them in the river where the stars could wash them fair.
At the stroke of dawn she signed off with a yawn and a sigh,
Leaving dew on every petal and a blush across the sky.
So when your eyes refuse to close, look up and know she is on her round,
The moon is on the night shift, and all is safe and sound.
Poet of Bedtime Hush · Hear it on the channel ↗
Commentary
This poem gives the moon a job. She clocks in at dusk, walks a round through a sleeping town and signs off at dawn, so the night itself becomes a kind of care.
The moon “clocked in at dusk” with “a lantern for a badge.” She checks “every rooftop and every sleeping stair,” slips “a strip of glimmer through each window” and hushes “the barking dogs with a beam across the lawn.” Even the crickets are told “that the day was truly gone.”
She “weighed the worries of the world and found them light as air,” then drops them “in the river where the stars could wash them fair.” At dawn she “signed off with a yawn and a sigh,” leaving “dew on every petal.” The last couplet turns to the reader: “look up and know she is on her round.”