Moon

Walking at dusk,

We saw the moon

Beckoning us

From behind

Orange and grey puffs.

The moon glances

Suggesting intimacies

From her impossible distance.

Perhaps it’s due to

Her flirtatious peeking

From behind clouds.

Yet her eye is so

Wide and guileless

Like a baby’s.

Her gravities

Pull tides of

Feeling from my soul,

Some bittersweet old and

Impossible love

Beyond reach

Like songs of sirens.

What mysteries

Lurch within me

On these darkening

Days?

Does this rocky visitor

Know I am turning myself

Towards September?

She, as the moon must somehow be,

Tempts me with her magic:

Returning to fullness after

Expiring in ten million

Waneings and filling me

With that futile hope,

And leaves me gazing

While she drifts

Beyond mortal reach.

8/14/18