I try to understand but do not know

what science explains: physics

or optics or geometrics or plain old

straight-line-is-the-shortest-difference.

 

Moon’s crescent bowl holds pure

white milk, defeating gravity’s pull

that levels water, that lets me

understand emotional truth of balance.

 

I wonder how the sun can pasteurize

the moon since I can’t see the sun.

Light doesn’t bend. Sometimes a mirror helps.

I reflect on this and wonder

where I looked to find

emotional doubt that clings as dew or frost

before the dawn, before the moon pours full.

 

©Timothy Wright

11/20/2014