Oh hear that, love,
the night sky has become
an opera of blossoms.
The stars are opening
into song for anyone
who will listen.
As always, someone’s
heart is breaking,
someone’s getting even.
And someone’s love
is gaining wings.
And someone’s trapped
in prison. And all of us
are invited to be
singers in the chorus.
Or perhaps
to be the silence.
Or perhaps to write
the score. Oh darn
the world of daytime things
that keeps us from this art.
Let’s pretend that we don’t know
the end. Now’s the time
the start.