The full moon boasts that it delivers all
the night-time brilliance anyone might need;
impersonating daylight, its beams fall
on seekers crossing sea and land, who read
their route or fortune in once-monthly splendor.
The lighthouse blinks its eye, tonight redundant
though steadfast as a chivalrous defender;
with moonglow so unblinking and abundant,
its man-made flash looks pale. But it maintains
the rhythm of a song Sirens might sing,
and punctuates the tide’s moon-governed gains
and losses. Winking at its glimmering
competitor, the lighthouse waits its turn;
one night its faithful light alone will burn.
the night-time brilliance anyone might need;
impersonating daylight, its beams fall
on seekers crossing sea and land, who read
their route or fortune in once-monthly splendor.
The lighthouse blinks its eye, tonight redundant
though steadfast as a chivalrous defender;
with moonglow so unblinking and abundant,
its man-made flash looks pale. But it maintains
the rhythm of a song Sirens might sing,
and punctuates the tide’s moon-governed gains
and losses. Winking at its glimmering
competitor, the lighthouse waits its turn;
one night its faithful light alone will burn.
Jean L. Kreiling is the author of three collections of poems; her fourth will be published in late 2024. Her work has been awarded the Kim Bridgford Memorial Sonnet Prize, the Rhina Espaillat Poetry Prize, and the Frost Farm Prize, among other honours; she lives on the coast of Massachusetts.