The River and the Moon

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I walked along the river at noon.
The trunks of tall black trees stood their ground
along the banks, while the river pulled backward.
On I walked up current, toward the river’s past.

I thought of the moon, a world away, invisible.
I walked and thought how different
my life would be without her, how the world
would come loose at its edges. I wanted her,

the way I want my mother’s face, knowing full well
her time is past. We scatter our petals into flowing water,
loving the mystery of disappearance. They say
that tonight she will return, oh so close, larger even, than life.

Listen to a podcast of this poem here.

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