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Cold, snowy moon
you hide, you hide
but I have found you, and
like him
you will hide once more
but not before
I behold your beauty

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beware
the full moon can dance
and play
and lie to you
causing mischief
pulling you into its
summer samba
with the fireflies
and one cloud
like a dancer’s fan

A lesson in seasons

 

He held his mother’s hand tightly
a toddler of three with skinned knees already
with spring just weeks old
skipping along the sidewalk, and
crouching down to look at a bug–
reaching again for mommy’s hand, pointing
with the other to the tree
he asked if leaves would fall in the spring.
Peering intently, watching with some anticipation,
and excitement–but she said, No, baby–
it is in the autumn that the leaves fall
but if you stand under a full moon
and listen for sounds of rustling, in the
middle of the night
you can watch poets fall from the trees
trying to get at the moon.