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09/20/10 - (1)
Water Spirits at Night
By now, Earth's lunar companion has been risen five hours — A beautiful all-but-whole orb — And will set in another five, if the sky has its ordained way.
Regardless, here am I, ensconced at dock's far edge, At 10:25, by northern Wisconsin's perpetual clock, Contemplating infinities of stars watched over by a moon
Illuminated in Renaissance glory, transmuting the sun's fire Into tiny, pulsating halos it paints on the lake's gesso, Each a nocturnal water spirit waiting for an angel to crown.
Elation is this moment's most elemental component. Night's brisk, high-thirty-degree clarity is invigorating, As waning September begins fall's waxing quiescence.
Meanwhile, the silence of migrated loons, ducks, and geese Releases me from feeling that I've neglected my sacred duties Of accounting for nature's requiems, its passing passions.
Being here, this evening of near-freezing euphoria, I feel my oldest souls resurrecting their buried heritage. I, too, am a moon, a star, a water spirit haloing the angelic lake.
09/20/10 - (1)
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