feels fresh chill through her white nightgown.
She faces west. The full moon is setting in the dawn,
sliding behind a row of pines.
Moonset-sunrise
provides a certain cycle, she thinks.
She knows. There's a hint in how the moon glows
silver, while golden sun shyly hides in the east,
biding its time.
She likes the plan, or order
to moonphase and the way
her clean bare feet feel on the threshold
of a new day.
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