the Sound Of Frogs

lying in the grass
next to the moon
with a jar partnering with light,
pretending to be a lantern

longing squeezes out of my eyes
and rests lazily on my cheeks

If I had nothing but the sound of those frogs
i think i could make it

beauty is everywhere
but not like this

the most beautiful words: “we stayed up all that night talking, murmuring, as though we rocked on hammocks slung above time*”

does the enormity of our longing match the enormity of you?

lying in the grass
next to the moon
i feel myself becoming

*from Annie Dillard’s The Abundance

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