I step outside into winter to take the trash
up the drive to the road, and, staring at the moon
through the empty black tangle of cottonwood branches
I step into another night when under that same moon,
you and I were walking up the steep and snowy slopes
toward tree line, a fresh loaf of bread in my backpack,
ski poles in our hands for balance, and no sense
of any story that did not end with happily ever.
After the love we thought we wanted, we found
the love we have. Now, in the time it takes
to walk to the top of the drive, sometimes
a whole lifetime goes by. Listen, there’s the sound
of the river, though it is locked by ice.
And oh, it’s so beautiful, that moon,
the same light
we used to walk home by.
I like very much how the same moonlight reveals both both time present and time past. That’s sooooo moonish. And I like how it starts out so domestically but ends with so much more emotion, the panoply of years past embedded in the moment.
Yes. The same moonlight, only different.
Oh, two of your lines!: …and no sense/of any story that did not end with happily ever after. and, After the love we though we wanted, we found/the love we have. (Echoes from your poem three or so weeks ago, re: the child you wanted and the child you now love to have.)
And, yes, how taking out the trash is time enough for your life to be played again before your eyes.
Thank you eduardo, for finding the echoes I don¹t always hear them myself