“All at once
I find her taking root
in the soft earth beside me.
It’s hard to wake her.
Even when her eyes are open
she cannot decide
how to breathe—
whether to draw her breath
like a young girl
or let her leaves absorb
the light.
Still
she calls the moon closer,
and lets me hold her
in my arms,
and all the while she shelters me,
the branches are filled
with a silver light,
as if the moon had slipped
inside.”
— | Howard Schwartz, “Calling the Moon Closer,” from The Library of Dreams (BkMk Press, 2013) |