Moon River

 

Leaving today’s non-contact shift,

We see a shadow and recoil.

Our home is daily grind and toil;

Elsewhere, like time, we feel adrift,

 

As though with wounds. We lie, infirm,

Procumbent in an unlit boat.

Our destination is remote;

Events this night may make us squirm.

 

Downstream, the show-off of a moon

Engulfs some twinkly passing star;

Back here, and muffled from afar,

Ghost voices pray this will end soon.