There are moons that can not be forgotten
such as that moon that filled the sky that one September.
We were coming up over the hill—you, Dad and I—and it met us through the trees
pale and powerful overtaking the silent repeating pines
You had never seen such a harvest moon in all your life.
Tonight another such rises but pinioned by what she has come to reap
a thousand miles from here
you have no such thoughts
lost in a private delirium seeing images that are no more
meeting those who are no longer
wondering how much more time is worth.
All of us,
we wait unable to know, not knowing what's next
while Dad who loves you most knows only that he has forgotten
caught up in a bramble of slowly unknowing
not knowing even that as you sit beside him
you are joyfully slipping out with the September moon.