September 29, 2026 by margaretsmn
Moon Morning
As I walk the old neighborhood,
I note the changes—
the roses that Betty tended are not in bloom,
the tall house sold; young children live there now, toys strewn across the lawn.
Clyde would love knowing them.
Lynn stops me as I pass.
”Do you know me?” He asks.
I can’t recall, but we talk anyway.
The moon hangs on to the morning,
losing its full,
returning to new.
Margaret Simon, draft
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April 2 Tricia at The Miss Rumphius Effect
April 3 Robyn at Life on the Deckle Edge
April 4 Donna Smith at Mainely Write
April 5 Denise at https://mrsdkrebs.edublogs.org/
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April 8 Janice Scully at Salt City Verse
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April 10 Marcie at Marcie Flinchum Atkins
April 11 Rose at Imagine the Possibilities | Rose's Blog
April 12 Fran Haley at Lit Bits and Pieces
April 13 Cathy Stenquist
April 14 Janet Fagel at Mainly Write
April 15 Carol Varsalona at Beyond LiteracyLink
April 16 Amy Ludwig VanDerwater at The Poem Farm
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April 21 Tanita at TanitasDavis.com
April 22 Patricia Franz
April 23 Ruth at There's No Such Thing as a Godforsaken Town
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April 27 Linda Baie at Teacher Dance
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April 29 Diane Davis at Starting Again in Poetry
April 30 April Halprin Wayland at Teaching Authors
Margaret, you have capture the passage of a neighborhood through time just as the moon moves across the sky. So very real.
What a beautiful photo. I’m struck by the quality of the light and that strong band of shadow. Your poem seems to capture both: light and shadow. It makes me think about what changes, what hangs on, and what is forgotten.
*Thanks for the writing invitation on Substack.
Stephanie, Can I use your image of the paper owls you made from your SOL post? It connects to my post for tomorrow. I’ll ping back to your blog.
Yes.😊
That last verse is so beautiful, and made me reread your poem for its deeper meaning
I agree with Fran that your ending lines pull everything together so beautifully and layer in meaning. Lovely!
Very nice. Changes keep happening. Our neighbour, Juliet suffered a stroke some months ago. She is 82. She has recovered fully but her she is working on her speech. She has moved to her son’s house. I am so used to seeing her sitting in her verandah reading paper in the morning. Now the door is closed always. A feeling of something is missing.
I know that feeling so well. One of my neighbors moved to assisted living. Her house is empty and I keep looking for her.
Love the mix of relatable, concrete neighborhood changes with “The moon hangs on to the morning.” Quotidian and sublime ways of marking time and loss. Beautiful poem, Margaret.
“Quotidian and sublime”? Thanks for those words!
Margaret, the moon is a great metaphor for the changes in neighborhoods. Waxing and waning with young and old people. I’m always delighted to go to my daughter’s neighborhood in Minnesota. It was built in the 50s. Now, the streets are full of children, dozens of young families. They get together for BBQs and street parties, are in WhatsApp groups together, share babysitting, etc. It’s such a delight. I wonder how many times since the 50s, the neighborhood has renewed with young people.
Denise, I love this story. My daughter lives in a similar old neighborhood that is full of kids. They all go to a neighborhood school. I’ve walked my neighborhood for 20 years. I can’t believe it’s been that long. I have people who look out for me.
Oh, I LOVE this title, Moon Morning, and ‘the moon hangs on to the morning.’ I enjoyed my own moon morning when it was a large full moon low in the horizon setting just before the sun popped up.
Margaret, the moon hangs on to morning is a beautiful, poetic line. The photo is a great partner for your writing.
My late mother in law used to call it a child’s moon, up during the time children are awake to see it. I love that you wrote about the moon!