ONCE

It was the other evening,
the first of two this month, they say
This only happens once in a blue moon
or a couple times every two or three years
and often twice in the same year,
So once in a blue moon isn’t that long
but she said she could feel its pull,
everything threatening to topple over
and she moved very cautiously.
I have to admit I didn’t feel very much,
but I come from the people for who
the lunar cycle is the norm, so the moon
really proceeds as it should, it’s face
having little to do with my time or tide.
The moon will be full again later this month
and I will pay careful attention
to what I’m certain I will not feel then
but will affect me in so very many ways.

ADIEU, SOL

The sun is preparing
still another departure.
He moves with a ponderousness
that you wouldn’t expect of him,
he who should be all passion
consuming the sky, painting clouds.
We expect his return by morning,
he has never yet disappointed
but Luna, lingering at the horizon,
a diva making her slow entry,
shines fully as if saying
tonight you won’t miss him —
the day may be short, but I
will make the long night bright
and mine is one you need
not look away from.

NANSEN’S HUT

If you have fine china
you will be saddened when it breaks.
If your pantry is full
your anxiety grows
as the food diminishes.

But if you are alone
with nothing, the apple
that falls on the road
is a feast, and the stream
runs free with the finest wine.
The silence of sun and moon
is an orchestra.


A reflection on case 52 of the Iron Flute Koans

STEPSISTERS

Perhaps tonight
the slightly waning moon
will bathe us in her presence.
That presupposes the clouds,
so very jealous of late,
allow her to appear. They,
and the unending winter,
are the evil stepsisters,
and they have neither
justice nor compassion
for the moon or for us.
And so, to save their
maleficent case, I shall
again, tomorrow morning,
take up the shovel
and imagine my boots
are crystal slippers.

ENVELOPING

The night wraps us
in the faint light
of the glowing moon.
The snow falls, reflected
in the street light’s glow,
and settles on the snow fields
of recent days that obscure
the earth that suffers beneath.
We will flee tomorrow
and leave the snow in our wake,
hoping that on our return
a week hence, some if not all
of it will have washed
into the lake, and we,
having borne the brunt of the sun,
will remember what summer
will eventually offer us.

FINALLY FALLING

Outside the snow finally falls
and presses
the last fallen
Maple leaves
into the ground
free, for now
from the rake.

Outside the snow finally falls
and for a few hours
November is redeemed
and my shoes
are suddenly inadequate
even on the half
plowed road.

Outside the snow finally falls
and the full moon
accepts it’s obscurity
while the cat
stares longingly
out the window.