A fingernail moon suspended
like a tender smile in the night sky
high above bare branches

Like lips shyly parted to reveal an inner light
so as not to embarrass the stars
gleaming in the sky surrounding it

Their light dimmer—perhaps shy, too,
not wanting to draw more attention to themselves
or away from the sliver of a moon—

As a new month begins
its silver scythe slicing the darkness
leaving a slim band of light

A promise of more kindness
in the nights ahead—
and more hope, too.