From the train window
I can see miles of Pine trees
that seem to go on forever.
There’s a golden wolf howling
at the moon
chanting to the midnight Gods.
By morning Pine trees give way to
Palms and screeching Cicadas.
Tonight the moon reveals the belly of
the world from which we all come.
All that I have left is a photograph.
Tell me night-time dreamer why you
hold so many secrets in your heart.
When I look into your eyes
all I see is star dust.