Stephen Kopel leap the gate the moon and I tip-toe your slumber and I wonder can you tell me, mother, tell me if I’m in your satin dream and, if that is so, let me grasp your graceful, calloused hand and, together, leap the gate that I may gather all the nodding notes which nudge high-strung violins and cautious clarinets to bow and blow now, we may dance into the quiet street our mother/son gavotte smiling at wistful oaks and sleeping folks along our cul-de-sac our laughter rouses dippered stars which merge into a diamond yoke pillowing your head on my shoulder, you whisper, “I love you” over and over as I twirl my mother in her barefoot velvet gown notes dim into the dark, doze the gate swings open, beckons and I wonder, mother, do you hold me in your peaceful sleep then, wink “good night” to moon