my fingers are icicles
they are frigid to the core
numbed from the cold, unable to hold
fumbling mutely in the darkness

the night sky is a faded indigo
hazy air only interrupted by
a lazy lightning bug making his way home
dew drops are forming on twilight grass

i am spinning with my arms wide open
basking in the glow of the harvest moon
slowly at first, but building momentum
until the galaxies are twirling alongside me

something is coming, i can feel it now
a raging river is rising to challenge the dam gates
pushing at the seams of a notion
something is coming and it is powerful

a fire begins to brave the crest of a distant hill
i see the outline of its radiant glow
against the sky like a 3 a.m. halo
something is coming and it is ancient

constellations of goosebumps rise on my skin
afraid of what is beginning
but, gently, i allow the barrier to break
and remember that even the earth tilts on its axis