The Changed Valley

Slamming the dented
Blazer door, standing under the
dome of the midnight sky,
we stand still, and if

one were to ask why
we’d say:  look --
the torn clouds are
coveting the stars.

We stand guard
like bare branches
and lean backward
for what is hidden.

Waiting for the quiet melody,
shaken snow falls from spruce,
disappears in undergrowth --
like so much squandered starlight.