the full moon from an aeroplane,
to get so close
while the poets are still in the ground.
Let's take the plane away,
and return the moon
to where Donne had it -
in heaven dissolved, beside the sun -
not a transit moon,
in the flight path home.
Waiting to land,
I see the moon, and how it waits
for me to pass,
to be given back to the stars.
