I steer my obeisance with intention, empowered
in good cheer, I peer into the clear pool of night’s infinity
gaze at showers tiny fireflowers emanating in the distance.
I pause and smell the scent of pine,
Refining the thoughts that tonight holds
shrouded in promises to the starlight
S u r r
o u n
d e d
by s_p_i_d_e_r w____e___b____s
< past <
That cloud my vision in a haze of self-pity
I dive into grace to retrieve the reprieve
I can’t see my fingers that beckon to the quadrantids.
Clearing cobwebs, a patch to gaze through
at the stars again …
…the remembrance of grace
for the infinitely finite duration of the falling stars
permeates – my/our – existence
then I slip back, pulled into the web
of thoughts and things
and the stickiness of the haze of regrets.