White moonflower, silver, spectral
garden ghost, tendrils curling
intertwining wooden post:
I hear you calling, lilting lulling.
Une cloche blanche, keeping time
my time in moon phase and stargaze
and lightning bugs' pulsing rays,
and your time whispered, aglow.
Like untwisting pearlescent sheets of lightest silk,
with dewy, heavy floral scent
on green twirling stems, I abide by your bell.
I come and listen to midnight stories only you can tell.
