The moon has a mood,
the moon has its bad face on.
We slip down
the draw to the valley floor,
circle the village.
In the hooches
there is a place for
a fire and small god to live.
Children
are sleeping their sleep
on straw mats and they are
beautiful in their yellows and blacks.
They are beautiful,
they are sleeping,
let us wake them.
We have come
12,000 miles
to find them.
They are beautiful,
they are sleeping oh
the moon
has a mood
the moon has something
to do.
-Edward Micus
