Sun and Moon

sunset

black birds flit across a sickle moon, indigo sky
dying sun red behind turbulent clouds, leaves fall spinning

white sunlight, transparent, autumn pale
leaves no mark on the body, no weight on the face

cold whitecaps trip and sing across foaming black stones
the lake beyond as bright as the blue, capped by horizon clouds

a flicker of sacred laughter, kissing the trees’ rough skin
you had to work all day to get here; now the light goes, blessing

you climb onto rough stones in surf to embrace the sky
you dress up your feelings and loose them, feathers in wind

at last quiet on boulders, light dance on restless waves
a single yellow leaf touches black stones where they meet water

now forget the city sounds, the typing of the traffic
this shore, wet with light, brings you new islands of seeing
earth reaches up through your feet and holds you to its breast—
into everyday sorrow, palm and word, comes the suddenly miraculous





Not every night a star—
sometimes a moon shuttered by clouds,
a firefly pulsing in mist.

A moth flickers around the yardlight,
briefly eclipsed,
till both sizzle and implode.

Lightning walks strobing the trees, leaving
retinal imprints of blood vessels or radial branches.

Breeze that shreds the fog
in shadows till the rain begins,
oblique, trying to merge with the land.

How many more nights till the moon dies?
Her phoenix dance burning in hearts fire.
Sometimes I see in myself a stone, sometimes a firefly.

How briefly, however brightly
we all of us
flicker from out the darkness.