Dog Star

Take today. I want there
to be less
of everything—wind

& worry, of leaves
littering the ground
& love letters, addressee

unknown. Return
to sender—
this, my quarrel

with what
must be
told. No,

I insist, No.

Yet the wind won’t
go away
so easily, the stars remain

& do not grey—
the boy looking
up into them thinks

he’s seeing them first
tonight—it’s true,
here the sky & moon

do meet
in an overgrown field—
nothing here

tall enough to pretend
to reach—even him
amazed at the blue,

even you.