a wooden bowl
forgotten on the patio
and filled
with rainwater
mirrors the moon
peeking between clouds
above a grove
of black pines.
i can’t make out
their hushed,
whispered secrets
murmured into night
as a welcome breeze
parts
my curtains,
cool evening air
kissing my forehead.
unable to sleep,
i wonder
if the fireflies
swarming
at the wood’s edge
can relay a message
to you
despite the veil
between us.
through the screen,
i marvel
as their pale flashes
dot the night
with morse code
precision.
