In the moon’s absence
I chase a curtain of light.
Although the dark terrain’s uncertain
I run with a canning jar
its lid poked with holes
to let the light breathe.
While my father watches
With diligence and enthusiasm
I continue, even when the light scatters,
until I catch a spot of light to hold
and place in a jar to contain its afterglow.
To catch a star, I think, to catch a dream,
and I recall my father’s advice
to reach for a constellation.
To touch Heaven, I yearn.
I watch the glow until it fades
and find joy in something simple
as it enriches a moment
in a short span of life.