Once Upon a SpaceTime

—to Pat on our 40th Anniversary

gibbous-moon-and-treea couple of hours before twilight
a gibbous moon rose east

over the serpentine spine of the mountain
a bright hole in a bluegrey scrim
there without reason
uncomplicated and expected
as a shard of granite on a slope of a talus
common as the little moons that rise
in the cuticles of each finger
of your familiar hands, singular,
as sure as the hidden sun it mirrors
and I wondered what the ancients thought
as it appeared and vanished
regular as breath, opulent as a third eye
crisp as january breeze slapping my cheek
as I cross the bridge 
from here to there. . .
I’m stupefied 
as they must have been 
although I’ve been told that bright hole
is no more than dust and rock
tethered by a wrinkle in space
which holds it in a groove of time
like a stylus spiraling in black vinyl
sending mute tunes 
hushed as the sure breath
that billowed from our mouths
as we threw row cover
over the kale

Jim Culleny