© i see the moon photography
I have not forgotten the way, but a little.
I waited in the blue to lie there, and be still—
refusing to mourn the Winter, and how one
is so much like another. Something was burning
in the sky but that was so far above
I barely had to blink to clear it from the lens.
And under, the cold was a Kingly comfort—
tender hands poised in the green growths; benign water-princes
that will spread until the water silences their songs—