A CHILD’S SUMMER NIGHT
In the absence of light,
the harshness of day
is sloughed away
into a reflecting pool of night,
where a billion things shine
that are not stars -
but fireflies caught in jars,
illuminating your face and mine.
Here what passes are not ships,
but silver dreams with golden masts,
with billowing sails sewn from the past,
moving in breath blown from an angel’s lips.