She looks to Sir Moon,
Wondering what he’s feeling
She pours out her heart.
Full Spring Moon listens,
Reflected in the river
Beside which he plays.
If He had a mouth,
Sir Moon would surely reply,
Would tell what He knows.
Of what would He tell?
He would sing what the bridge hears,
What the river sees.
The river sees brass,
Its appearance like silver,
Twelve feet, conical.
The bridge hears a song,
Improvised and repeated,
A song from his heart.
Sir Moon would replay
What the concrete barrier
Echoes to the reeds;
What the ducks and geese
Mistake for a lullaby
As they seek out sleep.
But Sir Moon stays mute,
His heart moved by maudlin song
Played to still her heart.
© 2017 H.K..Longmore