ILLUSION by Don Thompson WaningThe crescent moon flat on its back Bleeds out, low in the West With no stars nearby—witnesses Who didn’t want to get involved. IllusionNo wind, but sparrows like leaves Scatter as if blown away, Undoing a brief illusion. The bare tree is bare again. RemorseResidual glow on a moonless night Must be delusion—or remorse: The dark earth itself longing for The light it used to have. About the Author:  Don Thompson has been writing about the San Joaquin Valley for over fifty years, including a dozen or so books and chapbooks. For more info and links to publishers, visit his website at http://www.don-e-thompson.com. |