Footsteps.
Listen to the footsteps of the moon dancing
a shivering flicker of falling
in drifting down snow.
In a child's room, a child sleeping,
I am watching, silently, hiding
in held breath, and a creaking floorboard.
Her silver hair flows,
a curl of light glows,
shatters and dissolves
and sparkle-frost falls into the winter.
Listen to the footsteps of the moon dancing,
entrancing, shivering, drifting
in whirling round snow.
In a child's room, a child dreaming.
The moon glides with soft light reflecting,
with opal dust on the window
moulting pearl-rain motes in big lantern droplets,
dripping dull glows like mirrors.
Listen to the footsteps of the moon dancing.
She sleeps in shadow and quiet
a softness clothed in light
until the dark silk thread of midnight tugs at her eyes,
and the night suddenly, sleepily,
sighs.