Inspired by long random walks, moths on the tent, and sadness over light pollution.
I finally got batteries for an old digital camera so I can take my own photos!!!
:D
stars were once just that,
a sparkling of things, light
brief freckled grins.
one week,
moths might smooth soot
off winged tents,
praying skyward,
legs may itch next
from gold-tinged
fire waltzes.
centuries, we did good
at just admiring constellations,
at keeping the dark curtains closed,
at holding disbelief in one hand
and happiness in the other.
and now we realize the legendary day
behind the night was always a sunset:
dying flowers in summer,
news billboards creeping through
moonbeams, citrus scents draining,
air conscripted into disaster.
we made this our purpose
this empty glass.
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