Published on: 10/20/2015
Breathing Lesson

Look. There's no use talking about this,
The way moonlight shines on snow.
It is itself, the fullness of what it is and
Words are a waste of breath, sometimes.

It means the moonlight shining on the snow.
Reality is just what it is, the pure simple fact
Of what. I like to gaze out the window at dusk
In winter, at the trees, at the cold and all of it.

The trees bristle against the sky, impenetrable.
Never quite black, darker than brown.
A full moon, clear night and snow is a transport
To nowhere else. I'm not making an argument,

This is a poem, whatever that is. Not moonlight.
I open the door to the moon, rising from trees.
I walk outside to see it better, try not to shiver,
Try to be still, hold my breath. I try, I try.

I hold my breath. A car passes. If the world could be
Soundless, there is no sound. Cold penetrates.
The moon in the trees makes me hold my breath
So I can find my breath, to make it stay, my breath.