Skies Through Branches

Walking beneath trees one frosty night,
The bramble above, a barb wire fence,
The spheres lament in sad restraint,
That the splendor that stars dispense,
Be thus constrained from a wanderer's
Skyward gaze and his delicate sense,
Of numinous.

At times the branches scratch the mind,
Gnarly shadows, creeping crepuscule,
That compass the contemplative eye,
Hunting heavens for mythos and jewel,
Captured, now lauds the lattice work,
The dreamless walk of a somnambule,
Gazing wondrous.

And with crispy steps and wispy breath,
Neck cranes as feet find an open glade,
A crescent moon mists a twilight sky,
The years of weight and worry are staid.
Breath and spirit find their fellowship,
In one timeless time, being unafraid,
Quietly joyous.

Traipsing again below the branches,
Polaris darting through every rift,
A faerie beguiling beyond the sight,
Yet real and calling a soul to lift,
A breath, a prayer, a hope, a dream,
And re-enchanted receives the gift,
Trembling gracious.