Why . . . I wonder . . .
Why — tonight — when I see the moon . . .
Full . . . glowing dimly through the cloud scrim —
Fraggled by pine limbs —
Just as I have seen it a hundred other nights —
Why — just for an instant — do I feel
Connected to every other woman
Who has lived and walked on Earth,
Who has surely gazed (as do I) at this one and only moon?
Fleeting familiarity with . . .
Eve . . . Sarah . . . Ruth . . .
And Georgia and Tommie,
All of these who have stared at the very same moon,
Seeing what I see.
But why tonight?
A new life is taking shape.
Soon I, too, will be a grandmother.