Moon in telephone wiresThe quarter moon rests in telephone wires,
a twilight clef sign. Jupiter aligns
with Venus, sounding solo notes.
With the sun offstage, other stars emerge
playing the music of the spheres.

Windows open, a car passes
an airborne song. Radio waving,
I slow dance in the high school gym
fifteen again for an instant,
but that tune’s now light-years distant.

Copyright © 2008, Pat Tompkins

Image Credit: Kristina and Fred Gerwig, some rights reserved

Pat Tompkins is an editor in the San Francisco Bay Area. Her poems have appeared recently in Thema, red lights, the Aurorean, iota, and flashquake.