Summer Fantasy

It is a warm and fragile night, The air -- a porcelain cup. The moon begins its climb To rendezvous with branches In the silent dark; Its silver face entangled In their lace. We watch a star on the horizon's edge While on the ground below Something shimmers. On the narrow ledge: An umber tree moves Like an ancient friend. We wonder -- have our senses taken flight? Or if indeed -- there is another land.m