they’re cold and sparkly 
endlessly interesting but distant 
so abstract as to be everything -or dust

there are no answers there
just as there are none in clouds or leaves
-they all fall with time 

but who cares about time
in the moments of suffering
when no direction feels right 

the stars are a clock or a bear 
or little dream beacons 
disappearing from view in daylight

the rhyme has fallen away
leaving leaves rustling 
with rain shimmering
little mirrors throughout trees

you only have to look 
without needing to

She remembers feeling whole

inside the strange wool coat

with a fuzzy muffler and warm hood.

The way the night looked blue,

the way the snow sparkled 

just as it settled on the road. 

It may have been a forced march

through childhood 

but she always knew 

her body was not her own to keep

and what lay beneath

was something without a name

that would always be hers,

in a place with green and florals

and lots of birds on the wing. 

it’s the starlight 

even somewhat hidden in the fog

it’s the Beatles song

the umbrella in the corner 

the map of a forgotten city

it’s the afternoon cup of tea 

with warm comfort of citrus 

the canvas bag of books

the mystery bookmarked for later 

it’s the memory of holding hands 

while driving with the world passing by

the evening peepers

the lyrics to an old standard

it’s a big old moon

larger than life

enduring longer than any dream