Last night the moon rose perfect and the sky was crystal clear, cloudless. The Triduum begins tonight, with the footwashing and Last Supper and stripping of the altar. We will watch and wait in the Garden. I was hoping for forsythia or forsythia buds. But the perfect moon may have to suffice.
Last night
The moon rose perfect:
Full, round, bright.
If spring would only
Come with it.
Still no forsythia.
The rhubarb hints promise.
The birds gather,
Sing these final days in.
The duck lady now wears white
To her neighbor*s turquoise.
The ducks have convened
Elsewhere.
Still
Last night the moon rose perfect.
It must be a sign
Of something.
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