From night

toes glide through
grass wet with dew
perspiring after the
flight of night with
the rising of dawn

something was left
in the shadow of dark
something remains
within the unspoken
faces of the stars
and the silent tongue
of the blind lunar eye

something was given
to the revelry in
nocturnal mockery
of the given reality
under warm solar rays

something was lost
to the oblivion found
in late stupors sipped
from chalices of
porcelain moon flowers

something lingers
within the very dew
caressing bare toes
that glide quietly
through the green grass
carrying their owner
out of concealed hope
and into revealed regret