Some poetry

Upon a wishing star: I wish he wishes me

I would love nothing more than to watch 
that beautiful body sleep
Those soft feet twitch in the
dreamscape footwork
Every range familiar, every reach
Each shape, each twitch
But I have fireflies to count
And rutting roe deer to trust
they know what they're doing
Forest cobwebs to repair before dew
And that strange red star on the
Southern sky, what is that? I have to
investigate that.

- - - - 

Rather shirtless
in a rather tiny valley
My air-light sense of self, my bike
(mud-caked)
And my good ear are basking 
in bird song
Forest fog is all but gone
And the dirt road is getting dusty
Going back will be a pain
but for now, for the bees and flawless sky
I am bresingary.