bright eyes this close

do stars each reflect your life, giving place.   a line of sight.   distance
       is no seperation.   no excuse.

spaces, between, hard to see, are full, like painting life.   connection
       is how we know.

whether we see or not see.   creation remains as meant to be.   us too.
blindfolded we were taken to the mountaintop.   stars fingertips close.
       we spoke.   they responded in kind.

vision is dry, not wet.   yet I hear a splash.   dare describe.

       mother came every time when I called in dark night.   doubts.
       moments are not a river.   yet.   a river moves.
summer is warm dust.   back to bare back, we swallowed till full.
       she had a name.   we both had names.   inches close.

       I follow.   I do not insist.

here, one certainty.   if you don’t look, you won’t see.   although,
       you may be seen anyway.   care, when walking beneath a limb
       during dawn, during dusk.   the natives said.

stars say, it’s the neck we first appreciate.   bright eyes repeat.

do they land like rain, leaf on leaf, a million times.
here’s one thread.   a matter of choice.