Pine-Topped Moon

Standing on the edge of a dream, misty pink cocktail of light,

I realized that tomorrow is always a touch away,

the findings of dreams within shadows.

I do not hold the moon accountable for lost love,

though it was under her kiss that I found it.

Nor do I blame the pines for giving moonlight a beard

with their blackness of sorrow over lost sunlight.

Life moves us whether we like it or not,

moves us onto new paths to explore

and sometimes back on old paths

where moonlight sits on top of pinetops.