We Are Surprised

Now, we take the moon

into the middle of our brains

so we look like roadside stray cats

with bright flashlight-white eyes

in our faces, but no real ideas

of when or where to run.

We linger on the field’s green edge

and say, Someday, son, none of this

will be yours. Miracles are all around.

We’re not so much homeless

as we are home-free, penny-poor,

but plenty lucky for love and leaves

that keep breaking the fall. Here it is:

the new way of living with the world

inside of us so we cannot lose it,

and we cannot be lost. You and me

are us and them, and it and sky.

It’s hard to believe we didn’t

know that before; it’s hard to believe

we were so hollowed out, so drained,

only so we could shine a little harder

when the light finally came.