Late Summer Moon

By John I. Blair

At the rim of my wild garden
The moonlight pools like cool water,
Bathing all the leaves in ivory;

It creeps along the bricks
Of winding paths, revealing
Joints and chips and cracks

Where I place my feet with care,
Feeling my way as if half-blind,
Which indeed I am,

My eyes confused by cataracts,
Fuddled by floaters,
Blocked by ignorance

From seeing even half
Of what lies there before me
So dim, so bright.

©2011 John I. Blair