Crunch And Crescence

three hundred moons
in your delicate spoon
a cereal so loved--
little lights bathe & swoon

you say it's too soon
as you swallow the lune
of a crescive crescendo
of a glowing balloon

she is furious, scorn
all her craters are torn
all the plains of her face
allay rage at the morn

and here comes the sun
now a million to one
just a drop in your bowl
when the cereal's done