My bare feet take light steps,
Through the wet grasses,
Transfiguring their high-stretched stems,
To the paragon August moon.
The breeze is warm
Against my outstretched arms.
The dew is chill,
Against my feet souls.
Drip,
Drip,
Drip…
The patient, immutable
Tune of night,
Springing from the hanging leaves,
Of surrounding dogwood.
Each leaf’s body tip,
Acting as a gateway,
For newborn water-molecules,
Taking off in a fall,
A fall through expanse of night,
Soon to be swallowed by soil.
I sit now,
My thin legs crossed,
My arms held-high
In the night sky.
Goose-bumps infuse themselves,
Upon my paper skin.
Fingers stretched far out,
Moonlight rays seeping
Through my life lines.
Closing my eyes now,
Retreating into a space of meditative mind,
I hear the doleful song of fowl,
Taking lone flight through the night air.
I feel the shy colors of dawn,
Escalating through the heavens.
August moon departs.
August sun emerges.
Here I sit,
Thin legs crossed,
Arms unmoved from their upward stretch,
My eyes still closed,
My chest,
Rising and falling steadily.
Each breathe slows,
Until the moon is finally out of eyes reach,
My beating heart comes to a slow stop,
My lips smile to the world.
Drip,
Drip,
Drip,
Drip…