on Memorial Day
#crossingover #giftoflife #living #memorialday #momentomori #now #remember
My body. Outstretched. On a deck. Between the Sky and the Earth.
At precisely 9.25. When the moon, the first and most abundant one of the new year,
A frosted cake layered with cars and people, rosetted with gulls, points out toward quiet afternoon islands.
Sunny jaunts, now-and-again treats, with cousins, siblings; and parents along but somehow invisible.
After all the rain monsooning through the day, cascading through the leaves of the still—green— with-Summer trees.
Back in time, a romantic era of English Time, they used to send a son or daughter off
When the Moon moves between our Sun, Earth and up-raised eyes, through the long-held breath of our wisdom-keepers,
Land dwellers. Sea rovers. Tillers. Spelunkers. Before you ask the questions many ask; have asked since man
Good to mark it each year on the world’s calendar. But I celebrate it every day.
After you uncork him and he appears in a serpentine of white smoke. Before he grants you
Red lights flaring like Roman candles at empty intersections. Headlights wanding like blind men’s sticks
The only thing warm tonight in the deep winter sky ~ and soon to occlude. The Wolf Moon, Ice Moon, Old Moon.
A man rides his bicycle on the sea. Salt rubs the tires. Sun reflects on the soles of his shoes.
However tender, and moist. The golden skin, supremely crisp. The stuffing,
Those many, sung and unsung, who gave themselves, often gave up their lives, to fight, in wars,