Away

The moon holds her head

in her blue hands--

How could you be so foolish?

She is referring to the casual

remark I made to the wrong person.

Her cheek rolls through wisps

of white clouds, chiding me, but then

forbearing.  She knows, like her

I'm better at reflection,

a bit dim in the moment.

My mood will lift

if I follow her out

across stubbled fields

where we can hide

in the branches of bare trees

and no one needs

say anything