Song of Solitude

Driving alone through the

city and your cure is

the Holy Hour

 

This supermoon sings

of solitude but

you are not sad

 

The smoke will seep

through lips and drift

as high as Luna

 

This special moon

it does not speak

but sing

 

Sing along even if you’re wordless

even if you think others

do not share your burdens

 

There lies pleasure

in solitude

and singing

 

This is a song

of not just yourself

but also the moon

 

And as you drive over

and with Walt Whitman

you sound your barbaric yawp