I woke up
   painted over with the night sky,
  stretching my lungs with a yawn.
I stand at the horizon, the place where
      wondering sky and earth share intimacies.
I lean into the horizon
 burning myself in.
           I can climb the stars,
             and swim darkly through the stain of night.
The moon hangs there, like a benevolent round word
 etched into a desk.
There I can rest like a saint, privately and silently,
 because on this night, the sky, and the stars,
    and the planets beyond
   are my possessions.
In the morning, as light remembers its reason,
   I will step from the sky like a carriage,
  tip my hat with a smile,
   and let the day resume.
 

Scott Carrington
MSIII