A summer’s moon
rising yellow-gold and wavy
in the silted sky of another
bone dry August
A sinking feeling
moon wavering like it might
go back down or just
hang around, drifting
like me, blue bellied against
the murk
My stars, where have you gone?
But for the pulsing of the crickets,
a sound almost as reassuring as starlight
the last of my long-beating heart
would surely lose its rhythm
Really nice KT. I love the sound of the crickets...