I woke up this morning thinking about the first lines of an old poem, one of my favorites. The Harvest Moon shines tonight. I wonder what we shall each reap?
The Full Moon
for BB
Bright white china face
Hanging over every tree
Crystalline and full of grace . . .
No wait.
So, I have a question. Full stop.
Why does this stillborn corpse
Of unspeakable violence past,
This lost and ungrown twin,
Still circle us night after night?
Why does he try to steal the oceans
With every revolution?
Even in the daytime, he won't go away,
Skulks on the horizon, barely visible.
Pockmarked by insult and asteroid's crash,
The worst hidden from view, but still.
A dusty rock . . . .a chunk of us, broken
Away but remaining in our path
Threatening to trip us in our grander
Flights around the Sun.
Purposeless and yet,
We would not be the same without him.
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