Poetry Thursday

For Poetry Thursday, I found this wonderful old poem about the moon and May, (yes, yes, I know it is now June.)

Phases of the Moon
ONCE upon a time I heard
That the flying moon was a Phoenix bird;
Thus she sails through windy skies,
Thus in the willow's arms she lies;
Turn to the East or turn to the West
In many trees she makes her nest.
When she's but a pearly thread
Look among birch leaves overhead;
When she dies in yellow smoke
Look in a thunder-smitten oak;
But in May when the moon is full,
Bright as water and white as wool,
Look for her where she loves to be,
Asleep in a high magnolia tree.

Elinor Wylie
(1885 - 1928) American Poet, Lyricist, Author