as starlings weigh down the scale

of a single sleep, darkened boughs

raise the opposing scale of wakefulness.

to the moon, who reverentially presses her

forehead to the balance--blessing the fragile

and slow motion of gossamer grids.

more still, the mind of a man that she is...

forest stalking forest, in the gentle lave of

her milk.

she is on his lips, as he tells the leaves he

knows they'll change--but her love will not.

his frame could not be more sturdy nor tender,

as he takes to the ground--and a love the worth

of death's wage comes to life.