Autumn Equinox

The Man-In-The-Moon hovers

on the horizon, his ear pressed

to the lake to hear the sounds of sunset-

the slap of bass feeding on his face,

the wing-whoosh and splash of geese

gliding in, cricket buzz. The soft, still

end-of-summer air holds the scent

of sycamore leaves, night coming on,

the Man rising high enough now to see

his eyes in the mirror. Just the two

of us, reflecting, when a man’s voice

calls out, “I Love You!” and a woman’s

repeats “I Love You!” one beat behind,

their voices echoing around the mountain

bowl like a madrigal. And they are calling

for each other to hear. And they are calling

as if no one else can hear. And they are

calling for everyone to hear, calling

sweet and long until their voices trail off

and the earth sleeps inside the moon’s

silver cloak, me in my boat, wide awake

and settled in, sailing on the sky.