Cornfield by moonlight
The long week’s harvest is nearly done.
Above the motionless hills at night
the old moon climbs, cradled
in the new moon’s arms. The Evening Star
watches over a red sea of corn
which holds, long after evening comes,
warmth from the sun’s last rays.
The crests of grain are transparent,
dividing under white shafts of light
to let a pilgrim pass. He is Moses
parting the waters, a patriarch
lit up by the moon’s restless beam –
or a shepherd with his dog and staff
walking the path that leads through dream.