Dog Star

Take today. I want there

            to be less

of everything—wind

& worry, of leaves

            littering the ground

& love letters, addressee

unknown. Return

            to sender—

this, my quarrel

with what

            must be

told. No,

I insist, No.

Yet the wind won’t

            go away 

so easily, the stars remain

& do not grey—

            the boy looking

up into them thinks

he’s seeing them first

            tonight—it’s true,

here the sky & moon

do meet

            in an overgrown field—

nothing here 

tall enough to pretend

            to reach—even him

amazed at the blue,

even you.