The Moon’s Quiet Reign

Last night, the clouds finally broke open, and for the first time in days the sky was clear. The stars revealed themselves freely, scattered in quiet brilliance, but the moon—she only lingered for a breath. By the time I stepped outside to greet her, she was gone, hidden again beyond the veil. Tonight, she returns—not boldly, but with patient grace. Through branches she shows herself, a silver thread at the edge of night, steady and unassuming. Her presence carries a balance that steadies the world: not a light that demands, but one that reminds. She does not rush, she does not boast. She waits—softly reigning over the hush of evening, grounding, equaling, holding the night in calm equilibrium.

Through Branches, She Waits

The moon returns, a silver thread,
through branches dark at night’s edge.
No boast, no claim, she softly glows,
a balance kept the night bestows.

Her silence hums, her patience stays,
a steady calm through the shadowed haze.
Not lost, not loud, but always near,
her quiet reign draws evening clear.

With Grace & Ink,

Mai