(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.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
Now I very much need a poem with a “pond/e(ar)ring” word split.
“tick the trick” … I love the way it sounds to read that aloud! And how about that understood (you), “tickle the trick”? 🙂
“this game of celestial existing’s” … gorgeous
I totally thought the last word of the poem was gonna be “smile.”
It wanted to be! 😉 But then it wouldn’t be a Golden Shovel.