‘How’s ‘bout I give you the moon’ you said,
‘In a box all wrapped up in a ribbon’ - in your best Jimmy Stewart,
But I’m no Donna Reid,
So we hopped on bikes and rode out to where the light gets caught
Warm as incandescent breathing,
Between the hills,
And we planted it there,
The moon.
And watered it with words.
And underground, it spread and grew and
Raced an reached through dark, deep earth
And ‘round us
Sprang an endless orchard.
Moon trees, pale as silver, every branch
Dripping with small, round, softly glowing fruits,
Luminescent mysteries.
And we stood in wonder, hand in hand in heart,
And watched them glow,

Our feet moved slowly through the
Wet grass,
Hands clasped
in awe over smooth, burnished bark,
Jumping and falling in laughter,
trying for the highest leafy branches
Where grew the brightest moons of all…

We collected them in a basket
And took them to the edge of the pond and set them floating,
Bobbing and shining
And reflecting on the water
Lambent balloons,

And I placed my head on your shoulder there,
With our feet wet in the susurrant moonlight,
And my heart was a moon,
Glowing and true,
And rising to ebony skies.
I am amazed still, at how you caught it,
Roped it round like any cowboy,
And pulled it back and held it close,

And it was you,
You and you, and always, only you.
In the sweet air
In the glowing night
Bare feet in soft grass, yours and mine,
Or mine and yours
Who could tell?

Like, how exactly was it that
We found ourselves
Later,
Nightswimming,
Your idea?
Mine?
In the hush and stillness of warm water
Watching floating moons
From underneath,
Like watery moths
Landing in liquid softness.

The world hangs on our movements,
Slow and infinite,
Suspended in a pearlescent lunar cloud
The only sounds, the rush of our own blood
Soft water’s lapping,
And the singing of a thousand bright, ripe moons,
Suspended.

06/01/2011

Posted on 06/01/2011
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