Brimming still

Yes, I thought of the wine and cup

and of course you sprang to mind, my love.
The night half-full of stars, the streams
brim with your absence, and flow rough.

 

Too blind tonight the lamp of moon

it rises too fast and sinks too soon
half empty its crescent thin glass gleams
on still dark waters of the lagoons.

 

I thought of you and the wine and cup

and this brimming emptiness felt enough
what’s full is full, what’s empty seems
too precious still to give it up.