Wedding Moon

Brocade moon pinned on this morning's window could have been touched or eaten I told you: white-on-white confection hung over crisp-cut cornstalks heavy with cobs the fuchsia mums pearled in wetness, all of it good enough to write about good enough to capture and keep in a drawer. My drawer is full a mountain of moonshapes in hiding: ragged harvest moons blue sliver moons the fresh crescent fingernail parings of infants and gold laced the gingersnap-cookie-kind fat, lazy gibbouses enough for an artist to wear out a brush or two enough for the minister's amen.

Just one moon more ... after a daughter's gone to her man one extra token one last way to say goodbye: this wedding moon was up all night at morning paired with the sun - full, I said - but you told me no, moon's on the wane the rice all tossed on the steps pumpkins off the vine.