always ever pondering the sky

(A Golden Shovel after “the trick of finding what you didn’t lose,” by E.E. Cummings) 

::

see, the 
thing that makes us tick; the trick 
is knowing what you’re made of

and then finding
what you never had, what
maybe the lonely moon only hid from you 
and made sure she didn’t
disclose to stars, win or lose.

this game of celestial existing’s
truly tricky 
for we’re made for more, but 
with all that sacred sky in store, we have to 
find our way. to live’s 
more than a day, more than a sunlit mile, a 
pin-pricked scrim, a sacred gift. 

::

In November, we poem. This one’s a Golden Shovel.