ONE NIGHT

the sparkling moon

bleeds flowers of

plenty into a

meandering

night,

drops of red

soak and

cleanse

ancient stars

in dark pots

of silence,

you scurry

to catch a

glimpse of

father fate

in time’s

brisk

brown

hands,

then with that

grin I love,

carve your

name in the

swinging gate

of the bluest

galaxy

where it curves

and shimmers

like crimson

clay next

to mine.