Do you really think the sun will fire
leaves and shoots of blown color
into the cauldron of yearning
we feel at dawn?
Do you really think the moon will float
in our arms
under the sea?
Cast your muse.
Vessels of infinite boundaries
support an Einstein proclivity
to scratch releases of wanton light.
Jump into your pot of darkness
to belie the night.
Day arrives to green the year
with birds on backs of dolphins.