The words I live by are moonlit.
Shunning the day and burnt
people walking red in the sun.
I wait ‘til they all fall
asleep and melt away
into houses dimmed by night.
In this world of black and white photographs,
I prefer my conversations with the stars.
Every retort, rebuttal and response
is delivered with a glimmer
absent the demand
for protection of tinted lenses.
And as reflection waxes to sight
clear as dew sparkling under the moon,
the only stir and hustle
is the whisper of the trees
nodding in assent.
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