In the psychic quiet
of a pale-plum night,
the semi-staccato of our
clumsy handshakes
are alchemized—



the albedo of
silver bodies flickering
where we once
fumbled… a perilune of
pooling veils;
of walmed white melding,
and toppling down
through the trees!



Soft thuds of footprints
searching the gleaming
blades of grass;



                the less-dark of
            is aglow with us.


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