Erin Castaldi

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lilacs

perfume the wind

beneath stars

we toast to 

a new world

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the winds asks

how long

before dreams

become a part

of moon song

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pine, oak, spruce, cedar

where is it you

fall away to

when life grows

unrelenting

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sapphire sky

layers of cloud

descend upon earth

in spaces of

summer light

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the point

of ambition when

burning stars invite

us to dance 

penniless in the end

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more cricket

than cicada

grandmother’s 

black and white

beehive

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