comb wax comb
against a force
as dim as night
when twilight squints
into these muted tints
as stars are stumbling found
as stars are
pinned on a silky night
roaring soon
this so roaring moon
tooth and clawed
as angry as found
as soon as sound
as if a heart waits
but it can not
not in this world
wait for a world
that is a world full
and the passing day
is a passing fancy passed
past and gone
into the twilight
lit from within
the hearth thresholds
hearken the drifting dew
will on each strand of fancy
come light with tiny mysteries
the strands of small diamonds
small and distant and true

Nice..