Fragment – God’s Grain –

Sleep is hard to obtain.

The night is bright

with a moon that silvers my curtains.

But I think of other beauty.

Of things to be

and things that might be.

My answer

Her reply

always she replies.

Never she answers.

Never I ask.

Perhaps she thinks of me.

Perhaps not.

*

Galaxies swirl

stirred by God’s finger.

A planet soup

and he gives me a small want.

For her.

For the fragile hand

that I may squeeze too hard.

How I wish to spoil her

Giving much

not expecting much.

I wish for only

a small measure of love.

To have her consent.

*

She moves as a faerie

in the mist.

A sprite

in mischief.

A nymph

in the woods.

*

I move heavily

Big

an imposter in the forest

and mist.

Yes

clumsy.

I wish not to force her

merely to suggest

Maybe we will dance.