That time we stayed out there past the dusk
The light became grains, granular incandescence
The waves were matt lumps, hidden until the final second
And bursting open, their white parts bare for a glimpse
The flat disc of the moon burst upon us
At first a flickering light that flirted with the swell
Danced across its surfaces, swept its corridors clean
And at last a silver screen, that descended on us like a dawn
What had been hidden was wirebrushed metal, figures drawn
And we came into this new light like children
Calling to ourselves, in delight and reassurance
Sitting on our boards questioning, questioning
Riders of the moon lake, this being beyond consequence
Fugitives from the sleeping world, threaders of the brighter dark