Networks of veins run through life
like dew drops counting time
in dreams untouched by shadows of shame
and seconds colored by the fruit of the day.
There is peace in the sun
though she cries at night
while the moon hangs heavy in the sky –
Limber, with the scent of dusk
in the orange tinge that takes hold
of her faint farewell to daytime.
Drifting off to dreaming
where the petals turned to dust –
Phased not by nature’s passing
connect to pieces unwrought,
fragmented and full
like the drops of time still uncounted.