Reach a hand to the crescent moon
grab hold of the hollow.
If she sits in the palm of the left
that moon will be fuller tomorrow.
If she sits in the palm of the right
that moon is on the wane
and the love of the one who shares your bed
will be doing just the same...
Out among the fields gently hipped
beneath the corn,
Assiniboine bones beneath the highway
he stood there and he thought of home
A finger traces the path of a satellite
You're drawn to a distant copse of trees
A voice as sweet as Mare's Tail
clings to the prairie breeze...
Do I reach for you
when I know you're on the wane?
Do I sense you when I know you're not around?
Do I search for you
when I know you can't be found?
Do I dare to speak your name?
Raise your eyes to a moonless sky
and try to wish upon a rising star.
Search all you want for her blessing
but you won't find her sparkling there.
Now cast your eyes to a part of the sky
where nothing but darkness unfolds
and watch as all around you
she reveals the brilliance of secrets untold...
--Michael Timmins
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