Goddess practice: Poemlets IV

Cold moon
White and Blue it stares
through empty sky,
Shines at wet grass
in too-cool-for-August air.
Deigns to ignore that
thuderstorms and tumult reigned
only hours before.

(Smug moon, Proud moon, Lumiary lune) Poemlets III

One gold-orange cresent of a moon
crowns my violet skies,
Tempts the silloutte of trees
to hum in inky green.