Each passing year I celebrate an anniversary and dedicate a poem as an offering
in the spirit of gratitude, each life a gift to the other is our promise home.
In the Ides of the Moon
A gathering of large greys jumped far off, and by
their reach made it at least twenty feet out of the water
under a full moon.
The wind musing low, the leaps and bounds
resound with a resonance like the bleating of sheep,
what no one notices away in civilization.
I need to be here on this sandy shore, something of a speck
in the ides of the moon, the sky simple and wide open,
and night is a song.
Each part of the world becomes meaningful,
as the deep breath of the ocean
rises and falls.
Garden City Park