See her moonlight

bloom from thick forest

leaving the ground

plucking words from the stars

half heather mosses

deep purple wherries

In need of some repair,

six point seven billion

careless owners.

Lovely views of the galaxy,

possible renovation project.

Owners seek exchange

The cold is solid,

hard against thighs,

steel to toe.

In the mirror of the gas fire

my face distorts,

thin, too long.

We giggle,

She had a box full of taffeta, ermine,

shoes made of petals, those of a rose.

Satin, worn thin beneath copper trees,

a deep scarlet hood on a wolfish coat.

I found an autumn necklace in the hedge,

silken threads, strung with tiny beads.

Yet when I touched a strand it fell,

leaving only scattered tears.

Each night I pull threads of birds

shake them loose; unpick the skies

dappled husks of thrush and wren

mulberry silk from blackbird eyes