the memory of light

all that i needed was
some small light and know that indeed
i would rise again and rise again to dance.
                  —Louise Clifton, “moonchild”

looking over stubbled fields

shadows lengthen

meet cows that crowd the gate

corn stalks rustle

with pheasant and quail

unaware of their fate

we too shall breathe a last breath

wonder why now

how yesterday

the harvest moon rose

to burn like the sun

we earthlings shivered

dismissed Jupiter—a fleck in the dark

marveled at the fly

blinking—a space station

uproarious clown car

piercing the horizon

to disappear

into the dark silent

womb of space

where the moon

undaunted

will again

birth the sun

                             

photo: Missé, France farmer's field 2018-09-27