Sheer Pottery II

Poor fool, I
To throw my soul upon the beach
Beyond reach of the waves,
To look hope into the sky
And get blue in my eyes.

Why catch fireflies?
They only glow, and die away
Cold and green and a little weird.
Best not to jar them.
Leave them starring the night,
Black and cold and a little weird,
Distant as the fixed stars,
Frigid as the moon.

Poor fool, I
Following footsteps out the door
And across the grass,
To look dark into the sky
And get stars in my eyes.