The Dove

Delicately (with some persuasion)
the surface of the sun turns milk-white
in a fit of passion
that is noiseless yet breathing
and the world is shut out
in a reverent spill of the moon

By midday- a sincere declaration
to you to you

And the reflection of the pale star
Blinding crescent
Subduction of yearning
Murmuring and momentary
like this prayer which will have to end soon

I watch the dove plunge into the still pool
I watch languished muses light an early candle

For my part- I am moonstruck
and wait for the sound of water
to burst forth from the inhibited spring
forever after turning earth to the ever-flowing fountain

By Juliette Sandoval