MOON IN AUGUST

Life jumps out of us
as a located parachute
makes us outdated
in space and time
as we stare at the moon
under ominous stars
the sky like towers
above ancient Babylon
resembling our remote
in hours until the dawn
when we chant psalms
wanting to sail out
on our kayak on the sea
as we watch the bocce guys
behind the outback shrubs
play on the soccer field
when the things of the world
strangely grow dim
as visible gold dust
is imagined as a line in Yeats
thinking of Byzantium
as we sing an old hymn
trusting only dream visionaries
who bring their telescopes
on green mountains
showing photos of Vermont
spying a brown bear
under the apple trees
before others fish for clams
with nets spread out
wanting to fill our empty cups
with bread and wine
as my cat elopes.