A Page of the Nightbook

I stepped ashore one May night

in the cool moonshine

where grass and flowers were grey

but the scent green.

I glided up the slope

in the color-blind night

while white stones

signaled to the moon.

A period of time

a few minutes long

fifty-eight years wide.

And behind me

beyond the lead-shimmering waters

was the other shore

and those who ruled.

People with a future

instead of a face.