Orb

Astronomers proclaim
That the earth 
Has but one moon
But they lie.

I know that they lie
For I have seen
Dozens of them
With my very own eyes.

I know a glowing Humpbacked moon
Not yet exact in
Its whole round orb.
And again I spied a shy fingernail moon
Hanging low in the eastern 
Or western sky.
as circumstances required.

They speak of the Hunter's 
Moon when the woods
Are silver and each twig is seen
and distinctly counted.

The mist veiled moon,
Covered with a bridal veil,
Awaits the high  cloud
And the low clouds
And the deep black growling clouds
Filled with sharp lightning forks
And rain.

You know I would not lie to you
When the whole truth
Of moon matters
Is open to any peering eye.

But the finest moon of all
Is the lover's moon
Which blesses those tender touches
And whispers
And never repeats a bit
Of whatever may transpire.

How many moons are there?
Millions, billions!
Each of us has a thousand thousand
Of them
For each glance is another moon
For the list
And we can never hope to
Count all of our moments.