A Different Darkness

my windows open to a darkness
which city lights lift into a dome
yellow-white polka dots on navy fabric

my dreams imagine
a different darkness,
a clay urn carved
by moonlight into a bonsai
tree, a silvered out night
curves up and away from me
I have space to breathe
and taste the dew as it gathers,
pungent pines hover
sweeping my gaze upward
and I could choreograph
ballet, I believe, as I stand
in the night’s cupped hands