Loy Krathong

The villagers are not loud
they chatter like birds
gathered on the river bank
at night in the full moon.

They carry lotus flower boats
and candles to the water,
and then set them adrift
as gently glowing prayers
moving like faith into the unknown.

Beside me
a young Thai Buddhist
in saffron robes
explains that he is a soldier
but for this year he is a monk.

I ask him if he will remain in holy orders?
He points to the flotilla of lights
now passing below us
and tells me that he has a lover
who waits for him in the next village.

He says that the Buddha
will surely answer him.
For like the full moon,
he is not at war
with what the dawn may bring.