What Takes Shape Outside the Present Frame

A swan idles

And so do I

While the full moon rises

Over Weesuck Creek

All of us unknowing

How much longer
We can maintain

This liminal state

The moon arcs higher

Buoyant into twilight

As an inch or two more

Separates it from the horizon

And into what dimension

I wonder has the swan

Swum off to now

And for that matter

Wherefore am I 

Falling or rising
Into the cloudless sky

* * * * *

What a treat to walk down to the Creek and watch the full moon rise in the company of this swan - this being last Friday night, the night of the penumbral Snow Moon.  From the looks of this poised and beautiful creature I wonder if this may not be the very same bird that prompted Rilke's lyrical outpouring many years ago.  On a spectral night such as this so much can be read into this picture about the various realms unseen - which is, I guess, precisely what my poem is attempting to describe.