November hymnal (22)
So, after gratitude: the third part of autumn.
Questions without punctuation
Like love poems which will find answers only
When they reach the wrong person
In another language. Then the late slant
Of sun appears to end a sentence
Without words. No hope of early release.
The moon is balanced on the sky’s highest
Tent pole, just above the bear on the bicycle.
But nobody sees the bicycle. Suddenly
In the night’s back third we’re all up there
Clutching the ring to our parachutes
In the diffident cold, like all the stars
And no less courageous for it, our panic
Making a shape for strangers
Holding hands below.
Translations from the English 
Reblogged this on On My Feet and commented:
More wonderfulness from @jeffschwaner
“Questions without punctuation
Like love poems which will find answers only
When they reach the wrong person
In another language…”
I love this: “The moon is balanced on the sky’s highest
Tent pole, just above the bear on the bicycle.
But nobody sees the bicycle.”
Happy Thanksgiving to you and Mary and the kids!
Thanks man! Did you have a good Thanksgiving?
We did. We got together at the house of friends, some from grad school days. It got down to zero but it was beautiful to see the moon on the snow. How was your Thanksgiving?
Very nice. Just stayed here, low key but fun.