When bleached bones,
Spring moon rise together,
Faded suns of dusty planet winds,
Weave children’s dreams,
Of summer kites trailing tails travel,
Through old misty evening fog,
Filled heads in half remembered songs,
Hazy memories of an elusive youth,
Laughing, waving, dancing,
Time markers of many springs long past,
Come then suddenly gone,
All waiting till summer’s end,
Waiting until bleached bones,
Autumn moon rise together