Moonstrung

The moon, she sang her cuddle croon,
and in her cradled breath,
I felt the strings of heartstrung loom
reach round and slow entwine me with
the silvered threads of your cocoon;
As bright as love, and shining wet.

And as the sky lay tilting on,
and clothen clouds flow lilting by,
witnessed I, this moon ensconced:
a powdered, molten moth wings' eye,
in fabric weaving, warping, cleaving
constancy in constant sky.

Wrapped in tethered tidal coils,
as lightly as a feathered tread,
with love and lunacy our spoils,
a flight of heather for a bed;
As Fates will spin, and Clotho toil
to fashion string, and sing to thread,
much in the moon is brought to boil
in headstrong heart and heartstrung head.