Fickle Flight
As moonlight strolls where sunlight glibly danced
along the awkward stairway to the lake,
I chased my mind but didn't have a chance
to catch its bouncing beams across the wake.
I wondered why the moon's path always seemed
to find me hidden somewhere on the shore -
no place to hide nor question without dreams,
was it just me alone that it adored?
So simple and complex our lazy thoughts
that stop to take a measure of the night;
alone is where each perfect peace is fraught
with truths that tangle minds in fickle flight,
just like the frantic course of wayward sparks
that drift until they're lost within the dark.
April 9, 2019
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