when you look to the night sky,
a hundred stars dance, tantalizing
and just beyond your reach, close enough to
taste, tingle on your lips. how i wish
you could see me, but i do not
glitter so brightly—i am tucked
in the nebula's fringe, something
new and blue: the smallest pearl on
the string. come to the quiet
places, away from your city sting:
among the dark of early winters,
your eyes may chance upon me, dance
into early morning when the light
bleeds over us—forget everything
but coming spring in the supernova.