GE
In the deep hidden quiet,
the darkness stares,
and time is staid, in that place where
Moonshine is made.
The moonlight on your pillow,
motionless, has learned to behave.
Now there's just a faint memory,
of the clamorousness of day.
Even the argument we had,
for me, has been able to fade.
But I'm waiting for you,
like liquor fermenting that knows its fate:
Someday to be drunk
and in passion spilled. . .
But right now, everything
is quiet, timorous, and still.
[Catherine Claude]