Edges of the Sky Moon

Night stretches out in the cold

enrapturing frost gardens, draped

over seven horizons, stars upon mother’s cape

as she calls through sleeping valleys—

her quaking aspen voice bow-shaped

& quietly encouraging, a warm breath

of love turns the animal dream ancestral:

far out on a long voyage, no going back,

but onward the old path forward

returning to practice again

for the love of love and love

offered in faith to those to come