Midnight Garden

I’m in the wood now,

by the moon mirror,

the still, black pond.

No leaves sway

on sentinel trees

this warm, windless night.

Jasmine scents,

a sleeping swan

the same colour as the moon,

her head tucked

under feathers.

I am the only one moving.

I shift upon a flat rock,

my fingers brush a fern.

I come here to be

nobody,

a swan, the moon, a feather.

I would stay forever.

Soon I will hear the cries

of the other world,

the changing world,

and I will go back to

soothe, inspire, mother.

Until then, I rest

out of time.

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