stare at the moon with me

Small beads of water seep

into the threads of your

coat like tendrils of ice intertwining

with your body

pulling you in,

embracing you with

the cold, wet caress

from the earth where you came from,

and the one where you’ll go to

in the end.

Try to feel the warmth of the moon.

Does it shout to you?

Does it mumble?

Does it whimper when

it begs you to stop, stop, looking

away?