This winter
The plants in my bedroom turned
To face the morning suns.  
Tonight, they face the reflected light of the sun
In the face of the full moon.
I stand behind them in the unlit room,
And I find myself listening
To the wordless dialogue
Between poinsettias and the moon,
Geraniums and the moon,
Coleus and the moon,
Philodendron and the moon.
I listen, and when I stop searching for words that do not exist
And never have and never will
Describe the understanding in this silence,
I, like them, find myself
In the moonlight,
The reflected light of the sun
Feeling the magic:

Wherever you can get it.