Maris O'Rourke
Greece

A
wide
gold path
pulls my life
to the horizon reflecting an
unknown orange moon laying low in an azure
sky. Later a silver coin
lies high in
a familiar
navy-blue
night.
Clouds
running
the face
of the moon,
cast phantom lights on shadows.
Tides pull the unstrung beads of a necklace
to and fro, to and
fro, to and
fro, to
and
fro.