Window to the Moon

Seaweed-tinted clouds drift in the heavenly merry-go-round,
We meet in the clearing,
Bright and clean and close--
This night is an ethereal ocean.
 
We speak in light-years,
The forgotten language of cosmic dust,
Words disintegrating
In the recognition of one another.
 
A cloud forest obscures you,
The clock ticks in artificial time.
I’ll look for you in the evergreen moss,
The bleach-stained stone, the luminous window between trees.


On an encounter with the full moon this November in the mountains.