Do not be angry with me
For I will come to you soon
Without the help of the moon
Sky roads are impossible to see

It bends like
A joint would,
Swaying in the wind’s
Play, as would a joint
Be swayed by the fingers
Of the smoker.

But it is not harmful,
Though you would take them as one.
When the sun sets
In golden dips,
It turns into something
Beautiful.