July 1985

the first hour took a week

the second a day

and then it was five

the first day over

the second waiting

a vacation gone

for good

all that remains

is some leftover magic

and over-exposed memories

the second day was better

and just before bed

a triangle of stars

pointed the moon

glowing in the cloud

behind two maples

and the nightbirds

singing quiet

took the magic

and held it

safe

for a rainy day