Night's grassy fields furrowed beneath starry bait,
calls us to cast ourselves upon the straw,
above the Pointillist's daubs spark a hungry slate
to entice our soul while we chew our chaw.
Where we render ourselves like straw
we skew limbs and mimic far-off Orion,
enflame our heart while we chew on chaw
and drink ourselves numb on Milky Way ions.
Limbs askew we guard like Orion,
count falling stars and bargain our wishes,
drunk on Milky Way ions,
we battle mosquitoes with snaps and swishes.
Counting falling stars that grant our wishes,
we poll the planets and ignore Man's moons,
battle free of mosquito's little bitty swishes,
we hope for snipe, snipe and settle for morning loon.
Planet's poll finished and ignored void of Moon,
let's us cradle beneath stardust flaring Bourealis,
until our hope for snipe is settled by morning loon,
when we rise on frozen limbs heated by sun's kiss.
Heart cradled within stardust-flaring Bourealis,
mind drifting on Pointillist drape of hungry slate,
no longer wobbling on limbs heated by sun's kiss,
we're content night cultivated our star-mad fate.
Sheri Fresonke Harper
for Paula Swanson's Pantoum Contest due 12/10/2010