Firepit
under the Cathedral Ledges.
Long awaited re-weaving
of parted threads.
Voices grown calm and untested
for the moment.
A full moon the size of
everything we’ve forgotten
about the genuine animal faces
under our routine human masks.
Here’s to the mammal dance
of honest escape and joy,
here’s to the winter
chasing up onto tonight’s autumnal heels.
Dark Matter 