The morning moon’s sliver hints at wisdom’s riddle; a subtle urging of humorous implication. Night’s eye diffuses her unity into the living children’s waking dream. I stand at the edge of Earth’s body; a cliff that falls to space in every direction. Love smoulders and bubbles in the core of me, an ache of rainbows, a wound of petals. In such eyes, stars. In such senses, flight.