Hello again my dear lunar friend.
I've caught you hung low in the clear sky on this cold july night.
The stars look so beautiful, so bountiful, so vast.
I swear I could reach my hand up and let my fingers graze the speckled ceiling above.
Not a single stitch between my head and the sparkles above.
The Big Dipper hangs so low, I almost think it might dip into the lake and refill before my eyes.
The wind whips around my ears,
swirling in sounds of crickets and the summer night.
Scents of beautiful flowers that take flight in the air,
rise into the trees above me.
A sweeping glance above,
these are my angels and saints.