moon so fickle, and now she’s a sickle

i wait
for you, under
cloud littered skies.


i wait,
listening to how Owl flies.


we were to dance,
you and I
until the duende whispered
a final goodbye.


but now 
we wait
until that time comes again
when you steal so much fire
from your starry friend,
to light the way for mystery and lore
to crawl through the hedge, and through my front door.