The Sun at dawn’s the sweetest host
Accepting my awe
Suffering my concerns
As she greets the calling shorebirds
Who are rushing to embrace her light

“He moves me, the Moon.”
I say, sipping at the sand
“He passes through on purpose and will not stop to speak, though I ask.”
I murmur, half-wishing I could be cured of the gravity in the light he reflects

“I’ve seen his sparkle on you.”
She smiles
“I know my friend well, for we’ve played that way from the beginning of time.”
Warming me now, she comforts
“Touch today as you will and fret none. I suspect he’s just shy.”