The moon is floating full and free
Behind an old Hickory tree outside my door.
All day it has been storming,
With lightning, and thunder,
With the wind bending branches nearly to the ground.
Right now, the sky is clear.
Right now the moon is floating free.
Right now there are no clouds in the sky.
I am trying to write you a poem.
Autumn is coming
The leaves in the Cumberland will be turning
In a week or so.
In its time the moon has grown round,
Like a pregnant dream,
Whose time is near.
We both, the moon and I,
Have marked time
‘Till relief from the brutality
Of the heat
can turn the leaves.
The anxiousness of dreams
Wondering about their own truth….
Can start growing
Knowing, and yet wondering.
All summer we have waited
For the leaves in the Cumberland to turn.
They are turning,
We are smiling.
Me and the moon,
Behind that old Hickory tree.
How about you?