You are traveling incognito,
hiding behind dark clouds
where you think I cannot see you.
But like the full moon on a fall night
your light radiates unknowingly
through the cracks, around the edges
and the moonbeams are unmistakable.
When the clouds clear, as they always do,
there is the face of the moon.
Raucous, naturally reflective, funny, brilliant
not by effort,
it is just the moon being the moon.
Margaret Dubay Mikus
From Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine