I saw the moon come down.
I was driving that old stretch
Between home and late night,
Not another car on the road,
The moon the only real light
In a sky pitted with enough clouds
To chase off most stars. The moon
Made enough of a hole to lick
The dark itself. But then
The moon started to come down.
As if inch by inch, though
That seemed but an optical illusion
Given my angle and distance. I watched
It sliding lower, eyes darting back
To the ever-darkening road often enough
That I could drive without slowing,
My wife expecting me home on time.
Finally, it was out of sight, lost
In the trees. I did not actually see
It crash, nor did I feel
Earthquake or rumble, collision
Or fevered merge. The conclusion
Was simply the dark sky, the darker
Road, and I thought the tides,
The tides.
