July 17, 2025 1061 Views Moonless too? by Barry Koplen Dew glistens, gathers like wet dust until it leaves, vanishes, loses its hold like sunshine, its horizon. Our march through time stops only if life shudders then halts for nature to pause, consider new paths, when to unload morning dew. How Often Have I Heard, “I Want to Write a Poem but…”? How She Sings Me Dew glistens, gathers like wet dust until it leaves, vanishes, loses its hold like sunshine, its horizon. Our march through time stops only if life shudders then halts for nature to pause, consider new paths, when to unload morning dew. SHARE Poet's Corner