To pay attention, this is our endless and proper work.
With That Moon Language
Everyone you see, you say to them,
“Love me.” Of course you do not do this
out loud, otherwise someone would
call the cops. Still, though, think about
this, this great pull in us to connect.
Why not become the one who lives
with a full moon in each eye that is
always saying, with that sweet moon
language, what every other eye in this
world is dying to hear?
The summer ends, and it is time
To face another way. Our theme
Reversed, we harvest the last row
To store against the cold, undo
The garden that will be undone.
We grieve under the weakened sun
To see all earth’s green fountains dried,
And fallen all the works of light.
You do not speak, and I regret
This downfall of the good we sought
As though the fault were mine. I bring
The plow to turn the shattering
Leaves and bent stems into the dark,
From which they may return. At work,
I see you leaving our bright land,
The last cut flowers in your hand.