more than i imagined
i am lunar spheres, crests jagged and cooled.
like threadbare linen wrapped round old wounds,
i lay still beneath melted beams, feel his breath
trace beginnings in places long forgotten.
he is water coursing through tributaries
into lakes of grey and blue stripes
over smooth stone.
like new rain dancing on ancient grounds,
floral yawns and sprouts take root.
i am lunar spheres, crests made smooth;
his breath traces beginnings
in places i want remembered.
*for deb who has an affinity for moon poems. :-)