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.