in depth,
the moon settles,
behind a quiet black,
stretching like a sea beneath her,
and though she sleeps,
she casts so much sound.

freckled there in the sky
they tremble,
bursting flashes of white;
and hopeless below,
fingers trace,
eyes shutter closed,
while the crickets hum,
the trees rustle,
and the being of time
erases itself momentarily