Full Moon Morning
A yellow ball of light emerges
from its veil of darkness
and calls the morning to its side.
It precedes the sun’s full glory.
It remembers wars fought at its sight
and the poet’s cry. It gives promise
when the rising life seeks fullness of light
after the moon’s westward journey to hide.
I answer the call of the full morning moon
on its silent sojourn to renew my life
in the warm light of memories
of those who’ve passed my way.
I think about silent passage and good-byes,
the swell of tides pulled by another body
in my darkened world, the melancholy
when I move toward another day.