tsuri-doro

Dusk's tapestry recedes into night
and a shell of mist embraces dew.

Moonlight ploughs the sky-fields,
shadow seeds burgeon into stalks

of starlight. Thin lace of breeze acts
as a third strand braiding an ageing

willow's hair, moths nest between
her slender twigs; finches hark to

distant creases of a lake. Webs of
light mushroom the sky: emporium

of all that breathes. Lanterns twitch
in hands of night, like fringe on eaves

they harbour on docks of penumbral
mysteries, illuming pathway to sunrise---