Crocus, then

If we grant winter steal our bare shoulders
Shutter our hearts, deny our eyes open windows
Who then, of what mettle, would we be?

If not sun-filled and and mocking the chill
I should prefer my soul exiled
Some dark side of a most unearthly moon

Still Be

Stepped outside
It’s still enough
Breezeless
To allow me
My fragility

Impatiens still patient
Street lights still willing
At this hour
This darker season
Giving to me

Courage
Calm in my craze
Righted in this firmament
Glad for Sun and for Moon
Still

Signals

That might just as well be the moon, there at the end of these miles

You, sending out SOS love signals, hoping I’ll find your gaze

I, the Major of some spacecraft crashed light years away

Will all this only be an imagined adventure, two souls, starstruck

Not Enough Miles Away

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I, having opted instead for distraction
Skipped the moon crawling across the sky
For, if not for wishes
What’s the moon for

I, having once been the one
Wishes felled from her lips
A woman of goodness asking of gods
Who hoarded her pleadings

I, having looked away now, see
Their entertainment satisfied
By the light of the moon
Just another satellite