Onlookers began to notice and gaze,
I stopped to be with them for my part.
The moon was a faint white sliver high in the sky.
The sun was a bright star at the center of my heart—
its flame sifting through the streets that merge
with the world took deep root.
Between the apogee and perigee is an ocean
moored at the edge of night,
cradling what I can never finish before I head home,
bone tired and running late—in the scheme of things
an ending just like any other day.
The days and nights fall into place and begin again,
but I am relieved and so amazed—the shining
was a blessing, unlike yesterday.
Stephen Cipot
Garden City Park