Three Quarters From Antioch

The moon reflects even now,early
while brightness falls at just the
right point, casting shadows behind
a would-be camera, perfecting the
scene; an hour filled with imaginings.

Right now above a mountain range
made of strips of melted down
cotton candy, bleached by the sun
and the promise of snow, darkened
at the edges with an outline nib
of an ancient quill pen,

watching, dreaming of others
who may also notice, I stand a
temporary sentinel from the
pavement, a scribbled document
hoping to do you justice.