Back Yard


Shine on, O moon of summer.

Shine to the leaves of grass, catalpa and oak,

All silver under your rain tonight.


An Italian boy is sending songs to you tonight from an accordion.

A Polish boy is out with his best girl; they marry next month; tonight they are throwing you kisses.


An old man next door is dreaming over a sheen that sits in a cherry tree in his back yard.


The clocks say I must go--I stay here sitting on the back porch drinking white thoughts you rain down.


Shine on, O moon,

Shake out more and more silver changes.


Carl Sandburg