The Power of Not Looking

Imagine me so still
that you are still.
What do we hear?

There is no tick-
tock on the air, only
a bird white with
the moon on its back.

You know the power of night as well as I.

We have both more than once
lowered our dented pails
into the night
and been afraid and sure

as we pulled on the rope,
as we tugged it back up,
as the rope slipped back inside us,
that the pail,

risen,

would be full of the just born
wriggling in their skins
of moonlight and shadow.

And it is.

But we never look
and our not looking is our strength,
and it is

the silence we bathe in
at night when
we imagine.