West of the Moon, East of the Sun

Akin, somewhat to childhood tale of avian maidens molting downy wings in haste lest mortal eyes espy them bathe in waters silvered by the lunar light, and having laved would vanish winging with the night winds, to the vastness, infinite, the stars, east of the sun, west of the midnight moon. For we, like them, have shed our fabric wings to swim in pools of dusty tungsten light in rooms, and having loved, would gather plumage strewn in haste, preen, part with furtive glances, both to blend, diverge in traffic din, the fumes, the dust swirling, the smog, west of the moon, east of the setting sun.