Phases

Phases

To Brent

The moon's a study
in flux, a history of hello
and goodbye,

a lucky coin about to fall
into the slot of the horizon.

The rest is rumor—
madness and mania,
wolves at midnight,
seas and sonatas awash
in reflected light.

She'll always return,
throw off her borrowed veil,
come sweeping
to meet your need.

And you'll fall again
into her easy rhythm,
a ceremony of wax and wane
as waters rise and recede.