Moon full, waning, new, waxing.
The full moon was on display as I was driving back to Toronto from Kitchener. Being a passenger in my brother Dave's car I could stare up at the sky. We'd spent the day dealing with the business end of my sister Kathy's death: funeral home paperwork, witnessing her cremation, ceremonial arrangements, banking, collaboration with celebrant. Seeing the beacon in the night sky was a comfort.
---
LAST DAYS
Things are
changing; things are starting to
spin, snap, fly off into
the blue sleeve of the long
afternoon. Oh and ooh
come whistling out of the perished mouth
of the grass, as things
turn soft, boil back
into substance and hue. As everything,
forgetting it's own enchantment, whispers:
I too love oblivion why not it is full
of second chances. Now,
hiss the bright curls of the leaves. Now!
booms the muscle of the wind.
Mary Oliver, 12 Moons
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