fascinations

As if called by light,
I lift my eyes and watch
the moon divides the sky
into a moving pallet of mauve and gray
and within each patch
of nearby cotton and clay the light makes
a fantastic play of colors and seeming shades
prismed beams sing to me

Why can't she come out to stay
make the night her stage
the way I'd wish always to see her?
A thousand nuances on this single act
Beauty is like this, there is the moon-ness
 in a woman too. never the same
yet always true to the unique self

I simply learn to discover
that the thoughts that join
the thrills in my eyes
make a prose in infinite lines
both done and in wait, it is a welcomed fate
to love such fascinations, like
the moon.