(a Curtal Sonnet)
If we ask our questions of the sky
will it answer with its fallen stars
and Orion’s belt playing in tune?
When we raise our palms and wonder why
fireflies won’t stay in gathered jars,
how then will we know if it’s too soon
to take a breath and hold the world at bay?
We scatter wildflower seeds in silent swoon
and wonder if we’ve taken things too far.
A worry stone, a kiss at dusk to weigh
this touchstone moon.
A Curtal Sonnet attempt for day 16 of NaPoWriMo.