moon

The night washes over me, like the tide
and the crickets murmur, and burble
in the little pools of light
I am adrift, lost in the swirling
currents of the waterline, rolling slowly
across the shore
still—I hold this hope, a moon
that something may still out-last me
but there are moons all around
at the base of the driveway
rising up the walls, hung over the door
looming over the street
and streaming the hills
the faint glow, behind the haze
maybe I will
pass from pool to pool
in the half-light, perhaps I will glow
perhaps I will be a moon myself
and not look up again