as the super moon appears over the hospital
where I have left a sick woman
slumbering under human lights.
Thin ghost clouds drift over the moon
and the full globe wears a halo
but cares nothing for the poor souls
trapped in the terrifying land of the ill.
It is not the moon but surgeons
who are their gods, natural light shines
from the brightest, nearest moon for many years
as trees whisper to each other in the wind.
I am not quite sure about God but pray
as menacing clouds wipe the moon away.