She comes out in the morning as he's walking home
and greets him with her slightly crooked smile.
She asks about his night. His shoes skim down the road.
And he tells her, "It stretched on for quite awhile."
She glides along beside him until he's at his door,
where she bids him rest as deeply as a child.
Wearing her pale white sundress, she joins him near the shore
of a mountain lake on summer afternoons,
and walks with him half dancing through oak leaves fully formed
to a hilltop well above the water's hues.
Leaned against gray bark, he sings forgotten poems
while she gazes through the trees in pensive mood.
Early in the evening, she meets him for a stroll
among the hills above his rural town.
Beneath a canopy of pines, madrones, and oaks
his footsteps crunch on fallen shades of brown.
She floats along, her face contrasting with the greens,
her step as delicate as thistledown.
At dusk in cheerful poise she joins him by the sea,
scarce leaving footprints on the rippled shoal,
and laughs above the waves that reach to lick her feet
yet never seem to wet her nimble soles.
He watches her at play with almost wistful eyes
as leisurely they wander down the shore.
She keeps him company on long dark desert drives,
reflecting on his contemplative nature.
They meditate on mountains looming in the night,
ghostly valleys gaping shadowed acres,
sagebrush luminescence wafting from the void,
and seldom headlamps floating through the vapors.
Deep in redwood shade his bamboo timbres join
with sounds that trickle from the underbrush:
the faint cicada's buzz, the rodent's random noise,
the creek's caress of pebbles, roots and mud.
She listens to his flute-song echo through the timbers,
pondering the darkness, still and lush.
Nearby aspens shiver. Distant pine trees whisper.
He sleeps at peace in his secluded tent
amid tall blades of grass that tremble when the wind stirs.
Long before the dawn ignites the crest
of mountains to the east, as Orion climbs their heights,
she wakes to watch him breathe in perfect rest,
while dreams of her expressions fill his dormant mind.
Adding your comment:
I'd say this is one of my more inspired writes. And it was no meager task attempting to describe my relationship with the moon via her many phases through pure depiction. 
