Good night, Moon

Inspired by the title, and the quasi-animism, of Margaret Wise Brown’s Goodnight Moon, which I only found out existed today, as it was featured on CBC.


The room was filled with moonlight,
An ancient greenish June light,
From the canopy of trees.
Good night, Moon.

The chair was humming a woodland tune,
Under its breath. The eiderdown
Winged its way to the land of sleep.
Good night, friends.

Too soft for human ears to hear,
Each thing sang or breathed its history
Into the sleep-filled room.
Good night, room.

The picture on the wall was a gateway,
To a mysterious land of wonder,
Where the seas roll and thunder,
Beneath the Moon.

The rug settled down on the floorboards,
Dreaming of threaded and woven cords,
And the hands that knotted it long ago.
Good night, rug.

The bears were snuggled in a heap,
Dreaming of honey and a good winter’s sleep.
Ted and Ben and Treacle and Fluff.
Good night, bears.

The trees whispered softly their woodland song.
The night creatures snuffled and scuttled along.
The Moon gazed down on the sleeping Earth.
Good night, Moon.


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