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 Love Poems