Clouds Drift As If They’re Listening

I’ve been thinking a lot about moonlight on clouds.

From our perspective, here, on this side of the clouds,
moonlight is like light from a movie projector
and the clouds are like the screen in a theater
and on this side of the clouds, from our perspective,
we’d be behind the screen, not in the audience.

Moonlight isn’t bright enough for reading a book.
If moonlight’s a movie, the movie’s projected
on the other side of the clouds where we can’t see.
It’s not a book, not a movie and there’s no sound
so moonlight isn’t a song we can listen to.

I’ve been thinking about the songs, “Molly Malone”
and “My Darling Clementine.” Impossible things,
saving them, the doomed Molly, the doomed Clementine.

It’s so dark here. And it’s impossible to see
what’s happening on the other side of the clouds.
But we can see the clouds. We can see the moonlight.
From our perspective, here, on this side of the clouds,
sometimes we can catch glimpses of moonlight shining
on the other side of the clouds. We still can’t read,
or watch the movie, or hear music or a song.

I’ve been thinking about the songs, “Molly Malone”
and “My Darling Clementine.” Impossible things.
But when I play them, sing them and think about them,
clouds drift in the moonlight as if they’re listening.

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When The Night Shapes Itself