Rosh Chodesh

On the cusp of the moon,

a cupped hand gathers

precious drops of dew,

cascading from a waterfall of new blessings

to the sound of a secret tune.

In a time between day and night,

between ebb and flow,

a new month announces itself

and quickly takes flight.

In the beginning is enwedged the end,

where  first thoughts

are nurtured and grow.

The wise see the birth

and look in the mirror

of their deepest hopes and fears.

King David arises at midnight

and plays on his harp

the song of the soul;

a full moon of joy

and the waning tide of tears.

A new month,

another kindled flame;

one more gate

leading to the palace of the King.