Under a full Moon
my robe slips off
my shoulders. Stripped,
feet on cold grass, I stand
naked, quivering, shivering,
eye to eye with full Moon.
“Moon, why have you given to me
love I cannot have fulfilled?”
Moon said, “This love given to you
that swells your heart –”
“Like incessant rains
soaking and swelling my garden–”
“Yes, love as rich as basil pinched at your nose,”
“Resounding in my ears from ocean shells,
mysterious as that doorway kiss 42 years ago –”
“Don’t interrupt. Listen. Always listen first.
This love, glowing in you, flamed out
fulfilled — so don’t wait for —
nor ask for — this love to be more.”
“Already fulfilled? But –”
“Did I stutter? Moon said.
“You look silly standing there
Put on your robe. Go inside
or you’ll catch pneumonia.”
At the door I looked up,
Moon, a smiling Buddha.