Oh, full moon,
I see the white light on the patio
and step out into the cold air in sock feet before bed.
I see the big bare oak tree a few houses down, black branches against the sky,
I hear the voices of geese, flying in the bright of night, coming back north,
Talking to each other in the air.
I smell woodsmoke and see a cloud of it rise from my neighbor's house across the fence.
Inside it's another night of so much the same, the same quality of light,
the same walls and sounds of heater and fridge, the house shifting.
Outside it's air and breeze, insects, stars, forever.
It's the sacred moon tonight,
And even though only a few moments I've spent on the steps outside the kitchen,
I'll take them with me to bed
And imagine away the ceiling
To the world I belong to, that goes and lives and changes every second,
I'll see the big white moon lighting up the land
This one great night a month.