A PLACE FOR THE MOON

 D.R. Wagner

A PLACE FOR THE MOON

This path leads along the shore

Line for about a mile then ducks

Beneath some wind-shaped pines

Into a cove where the moon may

Always be seen as it assembles

Its lines and hoists itself

To the night sky.

Years ago many people would gather

Here to watch these preparations,

But now this place is mostly forgotten.

Those who came here have mostly died

Or have gotten themselves, far, far away, no longer

Thinking of this place.

I came here with gifts for the moon,

But it will not receive me and prepares

His rigging, mixes his huge variety of lights

And sits down for a few minutes

Before it is time to lift above the tree line.

I watch it practice becoming huge then

Diminishing to the much smaller size

It uses to reign as lord over the night.

It flips though its phases, tucking itself

In here and there, using the shadows

To his greatest advantage to remain

As beautiful as possible.  It is

An amazing display and takes place

In that regal silence the moon demands.

After awhile, I am joined by a few

Others who know of this place.

They come for inspiration and to restart

A sense of wonder lost to themselves

In their commerce with the world.

For centuries this place has been

Such.  I have seen the winds here,

Flocks of owls and creatures who

Build the night.  Last to arrive

Are the dreamers in their gauzy 

Garments, truly stardust and breathing,

Smoothly and deeply.

The moon begins its ascent.

The night settles into itself perfectly.