is it you,
making the stone fruits drop?
everything is full, overflowing
almost too much so
but i can’t find you
you shine so bright
yet reveal nothing
you say: sometimes the night needs to retain its own shadow
even the clouds agree with you,
and conspire to protect the darkness,
the true birth of the ten thousand things
that’s why you stay hidden most of the time, you say
i get it, but
from where did you steal your light?
tonight you’re neither voyeur nor exhibitionist,
just an elusive thief
a lunatic swindler
i don’t really know you,
my intermittent neighbor,
thanks for stopping by.