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Posts Tagged ‘moon’

One Near-Full Moon Rise

no passport—
still this feral beauty
crosses my border

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It’s tiny hexagonal ice crystals
in the earth’s atmosphere
that create the bright halo
around the moon.
Think of it,
so many scraps of borrowed light—
so that I shine
becomes the song
of something
with no glow of its own.
Just because its science—
refraction and reflection—
doesn’t mean it’s not a miracle.
Just ask anyone who, for a time,
has lost their own light
then receives it from another
who received it from another,
and soon they find themselves
part of a radiant circle of light
where before
there was only ice.

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On the Upward Swing




Barely a waning crescent,
the moon still shares enough light
to travel over two-hundred thousand miles
in less than two seconds.
It shines through the bedroom window,
its glow an ephemeral silver quilt.
It takes only the slenderest curve
to remind me the shape
of the whole. It takes only the barest
suggestion to know the enormity
of what is missing. Thank you
for these small proofs.
It takes so little momentum
to swing the pendulum
toward trust.

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Waxing



Moon broken, my son said
when he was two,
and he pointed east
to the quarter moon.
Mommy fix it.

He believed I could.
I wanted to believe it, too,
wanted to believe
I could fix any broken thing—

the loose button on a doll,
the ripped page in a book,
a scraped up knee,
a tattered dream.

Tonight I gaze
at the low crescent moon.
I have lost my belief
in fixing.

Count me among
the broken things.
And my son is gone.
And my son is gone.
And the beautiful moon slips lower
into the almost dark.

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Imagine


driving south
through the mountains
watching the moonrise—
 
and around each corner,
thrilling as it rises again, again, again,
feeling luckier each time—
 
meeting the self
like that

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On a Full Moon Night




The three-note song of the owl
opens the night
with a single repeated note.
Hoo hoo hoo.

Listening for the song again,
I find myself opening to silence.
Then there it is:
Hoo hoo hoo.

Scientists say
the owl is sending a message:
This is mine,
my territory, my space.
But instead of being repelled,
I’m pulled in.

I sing back to the owl
three resonant notes.
Hoo hoo hoo.
Not to stake my territory.
More out of admiration
for the power of a simple song.

It teaches me to trust
what is artless,
how sometimes simplicity
is what allows others, like me,
to sing along.

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Permission


 
Funny on a full moon night
I think about brokenness.
After fifty years of proving
entropy with my life, with
my thoughts, some part of me
still wants to believe in perfection.
I’ve never once thought the moon
any less perfect for being partial.
Tonight, I give myself permission
to be broken. As if I could help it.
But something in the permission
lets me relax, lets me soften
as if I’m covered with moon-drunk snow.
Lets me soften like Erik Satie played low.
Let me see you, the moon seems to say,
just as you are. And I step outside
and the moon slips in.
  

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One Illumining

 

 

midnight walk

even my silence

reflects the moonlight

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One Almost Light

 

 

reaching into the dark

the underside of the moon

reaching darkly back

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amber moon rise—

the heart, as if seeing it for the first time,

gives a standing ovation

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