Pale September Moon

The pale September moon called to me as I sat leaning on the table in the Sukkah

She was high and aloft riding on her throne at midnight, sending ribbons of pearly light

In all directions over the surface of the vast ocean known as the Milky Way

The great lady caught my wanton glances as I gazed up at her train and tresses

In a pulsing tumbling halo She turned her face and looked down intently with love –

Covering the curving terra with the blanket of her aura, drinking up the thoughts of men,

 Her fair round cheeks casting shadows of mystery and enchantment

In that moment the moon whispered something to the captivated –

Barely perceptible a singular silent sighing syllable – “ O “ – and brightened a little

Nay, she beamed in delight, a vain and beautiful queen of hope in otherwise darkened seas

Quixotic, In the early evening fat and colorful, while at her apex seemingly cold, opaque and distant

Reaching, holding, casting a spell over all creation, pulling tides, gravity, creatures, and souls

Toward the moon’s hypnotic journey crossing the heavens spinning riddles and bending light

Softy she sings the songs of lovers bidding each evening blossom to release her fragrance

Enraptured, every budding flower and leafy green foliage opens and grows

Together with the nightingale breathing over all the sleeping countryside

Like a wave the great peacefulness of the experience washed over me in the Sukkah

As I continued thanking the Almighty One for life, seasons, friends and family

Under the watchful eyes of the stars and above each diamond an angel wondering in amusement

At the effect that the wonderful regal shining Orb exerts upon the hearts of humankind

To sway and to swoon, arousing at once passion, romance, love and lighter dreams

Some blessings cannot be measured, cannot made completely clear or quantified,

But may be seen under the cover of a Sukkah wrapped tightly in a warm blanket of slumber

Caressed by visions in the night, comforted for a while under the radiant glowing moon

Until the expectant future carries us to an appointed time of beginnings

When, by the glorious light of a cosmic day, a day more luminous than any other

That allows the sun and moon to rest, one that blots out all darkness and night

Giving birth to the healing of all things and the renewal of all creation,

For in the dawning of that hour the King’s fallen house shall be raised up once again

and it shall be written on the horses’ bells and on the cooking pots –

Holy Unto The Lord!