From BAMBOO RIDGE Issue Number 24, Fall 1984, Last Quarter

The Return of the Moon
                               By Dana Naone

The thought of being away
                     from you
makes the golden dragon
                     leap from the lacquer tray
The roof cracks under the blue sky
                     even though it is day
                     the moon will rise

After a month apart
                     I come upon you in the garden
the black seeds slip from your hand
                     into the black furrows
                     a rainbow arches
over the evening houses and trees
the dogs are going home
                     to dishes set out on porches
                     the light folds its wings
night visitors in the grass
                     wake up among the fallen guavas
we stay where we are to watch
                     the moon rock on a hill

Under the curve of the moon
                     a man coughs as he gets up
from a letter to a friend
                     he has not seen since
the trees outside the window
                     were no taller
than the waist of his wife
he remembers how
                     once in the light
                     of another moon
he saw the tail of a pheasant
                     lift the silvery grass


Walking late at night
                     on the empty road
                     rising to the mountain
we turn to each other and see
                     through the open trees
                     a cloud filled with moonlight

Bio: At the time, Dana Naone lived in Haiku, Maui with her husband and daughter. She would be guest editing “an issue of literature based on Hawaii land and water rights for Bamboo Ridge, due out in fall 1985.”

Mahalo for reading!

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