Seldom seen in the stew of Scranton skies
But there it is
a rubber band of fog  
smudged across black distance...
Myriad-multitudes
They are truly there
Each burning ball
gathered beyond my imagination
by the Moon Mother
Who scrubs the faces
of her little stars

If I followed
That path
Discovered;
Where would she lead?

The Aspen leaves
Cover this
Canopy.

Envelop
The forest
Kept.

Fall slow
To the ground,
Forest Found.

Covered Canopy,
Insulated
Incapsulated Wound,
Time heals.

Raindrops
Sing as they
Patter beneath.

A choir
In
Song,
Ground
Catches them,
Listen.

No need to be down,
No need, no need.

Look up as these
Elements fall.

Raindrops,
Make her want to dance,
Swim
In Anchor Fog.

Breathe, as you know
You are free as
The tempest.