The moon can make your eyes burn
from its brightness.
God's Canopy of Grace.
A lot of a good thing often makes you ache
for more.

We examine simplicity,
Utter awe, incurred by a moment:

Driving into the nothingnight
The wind touching everything
Two hands growing old and familiar
Staying warm together
Trying not to destroy the stillness.

Along with fragments of the sky,
     We
            Fall,
                   Golden.

How is it, that the world has not stopped shimmering
since we saw the moon drench the flatland?

Your hand still in my hand
Your eyes blink, often
slowly.
As they close, I yearn for them
to open up to me once more,
and glimmer with the warmth
you've stored away inside your soul
just for me.

Don't look away,
even if it burns.

You speak love into the shadows
Lights, again above our heads.  
I'm always dazzled by light when you're around.
We pray for things like peace,
and discover that God's been giving it, all along.

J. Alfred Prufrock had it wrong:
The universe begs to be disturbed
By love like this.

Letting the wind and moon
and the stillness press upon us.
We are infinite.
And a little dizzy.
Hope expands in our chests
         So many birds scatter the sky.

We are Walton, Nebraska:
A normal surprise,
God's whispered secret about beauty
covered in the moonlight,
heard only by the wind
that pushed us together.