Poem #28: Moon Over Garage

.
.
.
There's a full moon over the garage.
Happens this time of year.
Four months ago it was Orion, the lout,
with his stinking winter pelt
and bloody club.
Only too happy to see him fade in the West
and leave the sky open
for this fume-y disk, which tonight shows
either the face of an old man
or a rabbit running a treadmill,
depending on your eye or culture.
I'm happy to see either,
welcome for the change of face again,
happy to have this morose orb back
(the moon is only happy when you rhyme her with June).
You can stay over my garage all night, I tell her;
tho your heart is fickle, and will
eventually invite
Orion back--
that's months away.
I'll wait until you next appear full
before I bring out the basil seeds
to plant them in your light,
cursing at each one as the Roman did*.
Tonight, I'll just enjoy
your bare illumination
through my open window.

[Note: The ancient Romans were said to plant basil seeds only at night during a full moon, and curse at each seed as they planted them in order to ensure a large harvest.)
.
.
.