outside my morning window-round,close
as if i could just reach through
and pluck this globe from the starlit sky
illuminating wednesday with a healthy glow
of course i know it is from long ago
and that distance and time separate us
yet would i best expect an intimacy
when she enters my dreams even before awakening
I know less about her surfaces(pockmarked or perfect
and the names of her past lovers stay on maps for others
I see my moon as silent poetry-no sound
apart from passing trains demanding rites of passage
Moon alone,above,within-a dream
for this specific morning/when
it will soon be dimmed by rise of warm
yet its cool white disc /ancient as this
hangs suspended in my window/framed
by trees and clouds and stars and names
unknown.She is on her throne.She rules(my visual attention
Every wildflower nods .Every weed rises to skies
She is the reason for this rhyme.Moon time.
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