Moonlight Serenade

It's a slow day turned to night

when the moon slips through waves 

of clouds, tempests drowning stars--

the sky is dark and you are playing a fiddle. 

We listen to birds settle their wings on branches

and bury their beaks in their feathers 

to keep themselves warm. 

We peek at each other through our fingers

and look for lights through the trees 

just now getting new leaves. 

We lie in open fields and watch 

dew form on the blades of grass 

undisturbed by our breath.

Somewhere in the dark, 

lying on our backs,

our hands touch--

the sky is dark and you are playing a fiddle.