I know that the moon is made of chalk and cheese,
and smells of fresh apricots. By moonlight, cats dance,
twenty or thirty at a time, padding in silent circles
and weaving their tails in a complicated way.
It is best viewed from a low cloud or from the
uppermost branches of a yew tree, the sort that has
caches of rubies and old gold coins buried at its roots.
To find buried treasure sing a song in the key of D minor
about your mother, the moon and some cats,
accompanying yourself on the triangle or the rhombus.
Your mother knows all the secrets about triangles,
including the stuff that Euclid was too scared to share.
She can tell you which ones bite, and which can be
safely eaten. The safest thing in the world is the
olive, which is why Mediterranean people speak
happy river languages and live to the age of 223.
Rivers have voices, every last man jack of them.
Only the drowned can hear them and are greatly
comforted; but I have never been drowned so I have
never heard them. Therefore I cannot tell you any more.