The Rooster crows at the Moon

The Rooster crows at the Moon
pouring light down the mountain
into fog and over frosted fields made luminous
touching shadows spun behind trees and 
between barns, bushes, and bramble.

But I am blind to all of it
laying in the lap of night
breathing low and slow
in stillness as soft as silt.

Caught in inner constellations
of tangled gravities
where space and time change hands
spiraling
gently falling inward
until
ignition
luminous annihilation.