I found the moon in my night table drawer.
It’s the same moon I wrote to Rob about years ago:
Today I bought the moon.
I bought it hanging full in the branches of bare trees.
I bought it held hard and fast to a deep blue-and-purple sky.
I bought it spattered by golden starlight.
Today I bought the moon, so that I could have it when I wanted it.
And some day, when I die, someone will find it tucked into a drawer and say, “What is this moon doing here?”
They will flip it this way and that, trying to figure it out. But they never will.
Isn’t that fantastic?
I’ve been hiding it all this time, and now I will take it with me to the West Coast and hang it over the water on nights when I’m the only one around to see.