Rustling

In the silence, 

of a winter moon

we wrap up in whispers

unpack an old quilt

patchworked with a scent

of old people

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Moon light paper

A winter moon

Gift wrapped

In silence;

Smoothly creased

Well handled

A quiet reflection

Coloured yellow

Red hot coin

Please, please inside

My house is yours,

Hang your masks on the wall

Throw away your armour

The neighbors don’t mind the clatter

They’re all deaf, you see

Their silence hangs

Like a red hot coin, straight from the fire;

A star hanging over them

From it a thousand beam of illuminationĀ