Slice by Slice

Each night
as I walk the curving drive to my house,
I watch the moon grow,
slice by slice,
until it is heavy
and burgeoning over Long Island.


Pregnant with light,
and tinged with a blush of hope
bordering on vulnerability,
it lays a swath
of white light on water,
a path through gently lapping waves,
across shards
of summer lupine stems,
and through rustling hydrangeas
to my front porch.

I perch on the top step,
wrap my arms around my knees
and lean against a railing
whitewashed by moonlight,
waiting in silence
for deliverance
as my heart grows fuller,

slice by slice.