In night’s embrace the moon descends beyond mountains’ reflection
still searching the sea’s surface for her own clear reflection.
Like a pizza slicer the moon cuts into the farthest wave
without a whisper she composes a veneer of reflection.
Soundlessly the ocean feels the moon’s tug and plunge
and releases a roiling surge toward her sincere reflection.
I know the water feels distant but hardly indifferent
the touch of land soft as a powdered sugar confection.
From a great height the ocean’s surface is hard as concrete,
but this happens every day hidden from the sphere of reflection;
this process of departure and unfathomable distance
so like a heart touch is revered in year after year connection.
I love the way loss is beautiful in spite of separation’s pain
and wistfully, wishfully persists without sheer perfection.
Who invented such a thing and why, a thing so real yet surreal?
The sea changes, the moon changes, longing for her clear reflection.
Dale Champlin
Dale Champlin is an Oregon Artist and poet. Many of her poems have appeared in The Opiate, Timberline, VoiceCatcher, Willawaw, and CatheXis. Dale’s poetry collections are: The Barbie Diaries, Callie Comes of Age, Isadora, and Andromina: A Stranger in America. Medusa, an illustrated collection, is forthcoming.