Tonight the moon is a chair
I’d like to step softly to a staircase of starlight
Sink slowly into slippered silence
Wind my way through the hush of nighttime breezes, their fingers dancing in my hair.
I would like to summit the sky
To curl into the curve of this crescent moon and count constellations
So far from familiar and somehow still so at home,
My head on your chest serving as gravity enough to hold me here always.
Will you meet me there?