oh – the cool night air calls

oh – the cool night air calls
as it holds the moon still in the pond
gently waving reflection
whispering the question that has no answer

sleeping blooms dressed in silver
lie silently in the garden
even the dew is cold against the skin
each step a reminder
of the warmth within

where does the face rest
when all the eyes want is to turn skyward
and drink in the light, the clear expanse of stars
until there is nothing left but to throw
the endless self into the darkness?

where does the reflection rest
when the moonlight is gone?
or the dew when the feet are just a step
in the softly crushed sweet grass?

where does the sky find the rest?

If not here in the small curve of the petal
or the sloping turn of the path

then where?

oh – the cool night air calls
calls in the song of knowing
and I, I am left with nothing else
but to follow.

~ la tyson