the stars tremor in the water,
breathe of sky and silver bird,

the night is a closed eye, a
river of frost
where the dark, born
of root and shaded dream,
stretches like a flower;

the shadows lengthen
dissolve into wooden gate
and hollowed out tree.

the night’s stones weigh
heavy like the cloud.

everything sinks.

the cry of a bird like
the shiver of a stream,
water-thick, eerie as
a ghost.

the heady scents of the night
speak of surrender,
of lost horizons,
of windows flung
open to the stars.

a cat wires his claws to the
dark, drops down from a wall,
lands with his fur full of sky.

On calm sunsets under the tree..
The sun speckles dim..
And turns into glow..
Replaced by moonlit kisses..
That find their way to my eyes..
I dream of you..
While I am awake..
The night tide comes in..
And I am caught in its undertow..
I flow away into true dream..
Where day and night or one..
The never to be mixture..
Under the tree looking up..
Both moon and sun kiss my eyes..
The night and day fusion create new colors..
A jumble of rays and lights never seen before..
This interlace of cosmic reverie delight..
Was the color of my thoughts...

sweet night, with
your summer blaze
and shoulder of dusk,

your wings fly up,
crave the sky, flung
into shadows, brooding

like the cattails in the pond,
your breezes are bright
domes, scented by the moon,
your clouds, hidden mirrors.

the night with its sandman
and rivers of dream, hangs
pendulous and remote,
cools like a mist far from
the day with its
sun of fire and withering
heat, its ghosts the shaking
clouds, its flowers the trickle
over rock of a burgeoning
stream.