March 2018
After teaching at a college in South Florida for thirty years, I retired, and my wife and I moved halfway across the country. Some of my poems have appeared recently in such journals as The Comstock Review, Main Street Rag, San Pedro Review, and South Florida Poetry Journal. Check out my author's page on Facebook or go to my blog at http://www.michaelminassian.com
UNDER THE MOONLIGHT
I
Too many clouds
crowd Obong mountain;
the rocks shaped
like soldiers along
the steep paths;
at night, I hear
voices through
the pine trees:
long lost friends.
II
I haven’t had a drink
since spring began
and flowers bloomed
on the mountainside
three weeks ago –
why do I feel drunk?
why do I weep
under the moonlight?
III
When I grow tired
of gazing at the moon,
I’ll watch its reflection
on the surface of the river.
Each night, the waters
flow past, high and low –
perhaps in my next life
swimming past this same spot
I’ll see the moon again.
I
Too many clouds
crowd Obong mountain;
the rocks shaped
like soldiers along
the steep paths;
at night, I hear
voices through
the pine trees:
long lost friends.
II
I haven’t had a drink
since spring began
and flowers bloomed
on the mountainside
three weeks ago –
why do I feel drunk?
why do I weep
under the moonlight?
III
When I grow tired
of gazing at the moon,
I’ll watch its reflection
on the surface of the river.
Each night, the waters
flow past, high and low –
perhaps in my next life
swimming past this same spot
I’ll see the moon again.
© 2018 Michael Minassian
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