mysteré

a grove of maples - sway in slow, rare unison.
purring cats on the edge of sleep - lovers in tight formation.

a woodshed organized by species. maple, ash, birch;
pine for kindling, apple for your birthday.

sledding by moonlight on hard crust snow, through the orchard
to the barbed wire strand that marks the lip of the gravel quarry.

one kiss...
how can there be danger here?

the mystery broadens to include shepherds lying awake
watching the heavens revolve, puzzling out the stars.

a mandolin climbs the stairs. it’s going to snow today.
follow me, follow me.