Monday Poem

Standing at the East End of a Patio
Seeing a Mountain and a Moon

I have no ears for moons
nor eyes for the snapping of limbs
against each other in the wind
these come to me piecemeal by different senses
to be assembled in a dark place
into a dream of moonlit-windy-night
where all up sides are glazed in silver
while underneath are shadows,
and shadows (forever)
have no tongues

by Jim Culleny