The Same Moon
The moon that I see is the same one my mother and father looked up at when they were children, the same one that my grandfather kissed my grandmother under. It was the same moon when Thomas Edison invented the light bulb, and when Michel Angelo and Leonardo da Vinci were creating their great masterpieces, the same moon of the Mayans and the Incas, the same moon of the Pharaohs of Egypt and the early dynasties of China thousands of years ago, the same one when the great mastodons and dinosaurs were roaming the earth, the same moon that my distant relatives in Ireland might be seeing in the evening of their day today and I, an ocean away, in the evening of mine.