"Oh, Moon!"

I cried.

Sing me to sleep tonight!

"Ha!" she said as she pulled the leaf cover over her.

"That is not my job nor has it ever been." 

And she slipped down into the veil of cloud and tree. 

And I realized that no matter how the moon may pull the tide and blood, ultimately

it is up to me 

to sing my own lullaby 

Leaving room and space for that silver trace

Of her eternal face

As she travels the darkness so far

Above me.