Twelfth night of the year—
the moon’s gone into hiding,
so I number stars.
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Waking
Waking at midnight,
lovers ever so gently
comb stars through their hair.
Rising
rising too early
even before the rooster
swallows all the stars
Sing
long before daybreak
hoping that the great horned owl
will sing to the stars
Shoes
The girl with blue shoes
leaves them outside the back door
to play with the stars.
Swish
night of the new moon
the swish of a scythe slicing
through fields of ripe stars
Crowd
swirling Milky Way—
somewhere in this crowd of stars
one I know by name
