POETRY

Waxing Crescent

Inside aspen corner

The limbs dance

Long and slender

Even in the meadows

I feel the breezes stirring

Time is paused

For these brief moments

(Laughter and silence ensue

I am comfortable with those too)

There in the middle

Of aspen forest

A waxing crescent

Floats weightless //

Rapid heartbeats

On a tattooed axis;

Waiting for gravity

To run its course