When did we become aware of the moon?
We must have had it pointed out as kids,
our parents drinking in metal patio chairs,
calling us over, pointing upward, and saying,
“Look! Look at that!”, their attention and wonder
more remarkable to us than the object itself.
But when did we too begin to be moved?
And when did we begin trying to get others
to notice the moon phasing across the dark
or day sky, now as a wafer, now a scythe?
We shift from buttoning our clothes to being
startled into awe by the workings around us.
“Look!” we say, temporarily illuminated,
our children disconcerted by our marveling.

This poem previously appeared in Postcard Poems and Prose Magazine.
Used here with permission.