Now the Widow Wyile
stopped writing
for some summer time
but as day led on
to day and week
to week she felt her
sense of words and
rhythm fray
so much so
she began to wonder what
she had left to say
so when the harvest moon
rose red in the mid-
September sky
right after paddling
on a darkening river in which
three confident and curious
mildly growling otters
played pop-up
dive down
pop-up            check for approaching
humans
again and again
the widow went home
and reached for her
paper
so she too could play
pick up pencil and
plop down words
full of moon lit meaning