A Droplet in the Crux

Looking up to the dazzle, I rub both of my eyes

Stomping on the ground and

I notice that I’m still on Earth

But this visage of the night painted by the scatter of stars

Conjures my little soul

And distracts me from finding the firth


I keep walking to the South

I see a droplet in the Crux,

Bright and swift

It’s not raining and the startle can’t shut my mouth

As I squeal, “Sweet Lord!”,

The shower is drifting with joy


I run again to catch a slipped flake

So tough, so rough, I don’t want to cave in

But I fall on my knees

And the flake flees with ease

The pine next to me whispers as I’m starting to shake,

“Turn back to your intention. It’s a trap, miss.”


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