Consider that we rotate
into beams of starlight,
they are always there
while we are not
phantom pinholes dance
as night settles, as stars shine
certain in darkness we know
where but not when
even in day
we are bathed
in starnight
with each moment we leave what was
to catch up ahead, plain to see absent the light
I once shone down from the space behind,
to illuminate from atop and I can attest
that there are no wires
just zephyrs
and complicit meadow sprites,
as good reasons as any
in the low moss
and creeping
thyme
at the base of the blades of grass
where traces of moon yet are found
cc: Chagall 2021
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Beautiful
Very much appreciated. Thank you. —CC
Eloquent words – all lovely and imaginative!
(I think it’s the meadow sprites. š )
Thank you, Betty. Peace and love on this Tuesday in time. —CC