The moon gazes down at me from behind a veil of clouds,
Half-sly, half-shy,
enticing me to the road. The wind agrees.
“Come, follow, seek,” an elusive call
that might be song or perfume or caress
or something subtler. I don’t know.
I want to stretch wings wide, create
a silhouette across the moon,
and just go. It’s not my feet that itch
to take a step, it’s my fingers, it’s my skin,
it’s the hair across my cheek, it’s the eyes
that I can’t keep down.
If we are children of the stars, mayhap that urge
for the empty spaces lives in us always.
The scents and warmth and light and noise of others
anchor us here,
but we do not forget that solitude, and it
can be glory.


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