Moon Rose

The wind has ways
decorating moves
cloud-puff designs 
frilling the moon;
the wind has ways 
of denying too,
and one love-wisp white ribbon
whose caress along
the still, patient moon so desires
is stopped.

The moon has ways too
kind ways perhaps
ways of conspiracy
when with wind she makes a pact
to thicken clouds
to hide
but still leave a distant star untouched
a rose
a singular rose
bursting through 
an asteroid shower 
delivering sorrow 
more exquisite 
than love's shining light

And clouds have ways too
white ribboned love-wisps
that turn corner 
and hide
in that silent, timeless 
underside darkness 
as immemorial proximate
of invisibility