Moon And Maze

    Along the square roots of the maze,
    a honey moon rocks,
    an umber conundrum in the sky.

    Turn right. Turn left. Behind you
    you leave messages, tied
    like curling papers to the hedges.

    The avenues are lit
    by the honey moonbeams,
    the way that they ripple like ribbons.

    You've been in this puzzle
    for almost a year,
    painting your footsteps on paths,

    looking for logarithms
    and calculating all the angles.
    Sometimes you run round corners.

    But the honey moon
    spins above you, a gyroscope
    perched on invisible clouds,

    and bathing the maze
    in indelible light. Wait,
    there isn't a maze - only

    the moon. And its honey.

From the book Love Poems