A sea-storm of cloud over just-dark:

brightness beneath, bats whispering

the air out of reach, breath held


breeze rattles black cherry

and the moon-rim rises, pulls clear

quivering against blue-black


Something more than five hundred

full moons I’ve been alive and why

this one night it transfixes me—


How many of those hundreds have I

completely ignored, blind to looking,

blinder to not be transfixed?


If it were ten times brighter, twenty

times, would I not soon forget it

just the same? Take all for granted:


bat-wing silence, leaves unfurling

in daylight, the rise and fall of waves,

countless fruits dropping to the ground


What good is it to notice the fruit

if I don’t look up to the tree? What good

is it to be transfixed by the moon


in a sea-storm cloud with you in bed

waiting for me to lower the blinds?


Inspired by last night’s moon-sky and a little interchange I had with Meg at Pigspittle, Ohio about Noticing.

11 thoughts on “Moon”

  1. This has almost the feel of a Japanese poem. I recognize well that feeling of not paying attention and then looking back and wondering what one had missed–beautifully done with the moon, and the close brings a sharp and personal touch–very well done. Thanks, Jennifer. k.


  2. Chills reading this. 500 full moons. And the noticing the tree, in addition to the fruit! All so true and lovely. (I did spy the full moon last night, just before going to bed, outside our living room window…) So happy to read this poem this morning before I go out to walk. ❤


    1. I did that calculation a few times…with a calculator, just to be safe. 😉 I’m glad you liked it, hope you had a glorious walk.


  3. Thanks, Jennifer. There is such a poignancy in the last verse. So often we spend time cataloguing the details of our lives without taking time to live the story. You’ve done a great job expressing that.


    1. Thanks for reading, really nice to hear from you. I’m glad you like the last bit. There was a bit of frustration behind it…on rereading I see that having someone wanting you to come to bed is a good thing.


  4. “What good is it to notice the fruit
    if I don’t look up to the tree?”
    Crucial question… I also love the final metaphor… …very profound poem. Thank you Jennifer.


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