mango summer sunset | | august poems (2023)

Observer

I am an observer

of the golden moon;
a moment ago
it was not there. It rose
abruptly out of
a sheet of
ghostly clouds and spoke
with pleasant tune.

As you are merely
an observer of my glow, it said,
so you are
merely an observer of your past:
golden, abrupt,
out of reach.

I made to respond; my throat had gone bare.

Praise God! it cried
in a burst of light,
Praise Him who makes
all things new!

The wind is

sweeping the film of
the pond to cross the
reflection of

amber streetlights;
the color of the moon
has softened,
been made
new.