Planting Stars by Moonlight

The day blackened to a deep violet

night heavy with dew and longing.

On the seam where gravel meets

grass, I stood half-dreaming, tilted

my gaze toward the mouth

of the sky and for a moment,

I was tempted to give up. Throw

everything I carried inside

into the wilderness

of time, back to the fiery

hot seed of the universe

before it began its long stretch

outward. Is there such a thing

as starting over?

I’m curious to know the taste

of moonlight, how it feels

between the seams of who

I was and where I want to be. A hard

frost will come and a flat of asters

has been waiting to be planted.

My heart’s been waiting, too.

For the right time. I sunk each one

in the soft soil of home –

smooth blue, sky blue, heath.

Each time my fingers dug into

the cool wet earth, I imagined stars

everywhere, blooming

every flower a promise

I made, wishing it were unbroken.