Missing//The Stars
The sky has shed its mask of clouds
and here below the air drifts
so still, every breeze like a whisper,
Sun’s heat now a sepia-toned memory
tempered by ripples of starlight.
Orion nocks a light-tipped arrow,
faithful as millennia past, and
never relinquishing his eternal grip,
trusts it regardless to find its way
down through the melancholy utterings of the moon
like a solitary tear emerging,
unexpected.
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