a thousand moons

Golden moonlight  Jan 2014

reflections of a thousand moons

in the eye of the lake
the window of old snow
the mirror of the wind
the spoon of the cloud

in a bucket
a bird bath
a puddle
a polished sliver of petrified wood

on a crystal
a prism
a crackerjack ring
a brass button from an old coat

within a raindrop
a dewdrop
a clear blue sky

the glass of the frame
where your photo smiles
the door where once you stood
the life you lived
for a thousand moons

graying of temples

its the disappearing
graying of temples
and long standing walls
leaning now on their memories

how quickly they leave
disappearing in
neglect, left to collect dust
on old photographs and letters

they were here once
busy like you, late to work
and laughing, making love
and meals, raising their voices
and children, living

ah, there’s the rub
the dead are left to their own devices
playing bridge and counting clouds
leaving the living to go around
in their immortal mortality
while the ashes cool
and death never takes a holiday