The moon rose out of the sea
                and climbed above Mihiwaka.
                                How terrible, lonely and far off
                                                it seemed, how resolute and cold

in the vast net of stars.
                I stood leaning on a gatepost
                                listening to the mysterious wind
                                                bending the pines a long time

before I set off back down the hill
                feeling like a stranger
                                returning to the place
                                                where he was born.

And the moon came after me,
                sat on my shoulder
                                and followed me inside.
                                                At night it lay glowing

in the bones of my body,
                a private pain, given over
                                to everything; all night
                                                the moon glowed as a body glows

in a halo of moonlight,
                and in the half-light of dawn
                                I heard the moon sing a madrigal
                                                for those who live alone.

© Brian Turner 2004

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Last updated 11 July, 2004