Nights in Rado
Nights in ‘Rado, my soul requires
To siphon essence, import, and aim
From these stubborn feels that refrain.
It is at first the kiss of cold,
The cordillera-like chill,
That welcomes me to the still.
These stars, they shimmer and sigh,
Susurrus from a timeless plane—
Concealing truth; clarity inane.
This lunar attraction, it roughly dispatches
My brain, the questions that fill,
Answers barren like land, for me to till
So on I dig, out, over, and round,
Alas but ogling this opaque ‘verse…
Wink from the moon! How curt a curse.