The circle of the moon rides high
Silvering the citadel; spilt milk on stone.
The city celebrates its married king and I...
I sit alone and stare into the sky.
Somewhere, in our forest home, you
Look up through leaves to the same silver globe:
We meet in the circle of the moon tonight.
Beloved, how I miss, how
I remember your hair
Like liquid honey
Spilled
In a dark pool around your head
As we lay on the silent greensward
The round edge
Of the circling trees
Encompassing our tryst.
I miss you now, more
Than in the battle's heat.
No longer fearful
Of death's severance, instead
The long, attenuated wait
Grinds down my patience:
This wedding, not my own, not ours,
Beloved,
Minds me of our time,
When we were gold together, vowed
In the circle of our friends.
To be home, with you
Is all I ask
Yet I must go about,
Encircle my longings in duty still awhile...
The day will come
When the world has turned its circle round
And we lie again together
My tongue circling
Tracing patterns
On the silk skin of your throat
Seeking benediction
In the blessing of your mouth
And together watch the round moon rise
Entwined beneath its circle
And the honey of your dark hair spilled
To pool upon my shoulders, and your arms, Beloved,
Keep me in their safe circle
Until the world falls away
And forever lies
In the hazel circles of your eyes...