The dazzling stillness reigns supreme
On crags and craters great and small
No air to fan the silent Moon
No-one to scan that barren ball

Then sudden stirring from below
A crack bursts through the quivering crust
As hairy hands, then heads, appear
Among fast settling clouds of dust

With wrinkled limbs and bellies puffed
Five goblins of the Moon have come
To gamble costly, jagged gems
They squat and leer, grey faces glum

The bets are down, the rocks are tossed
Defiant fists of triumph raised
But grimaces and sneers announce
An all-out brawl with tempers crazed

The gems are smashed. With anguished scowls
they writhe upon the regolith
Till slowly sinking back again
They’re gone! And all that’s left’s a myth


© Oliver Wright

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