We Dance. . .

We dance then
through the night sky
and gather moonbeams
for our baskets. . .

We strew them
onto the paths of the children
who will pick them up
and throw them
with joy to the night sky.

They will be stars again
to be gathered by a one
who recognizes stars
as beams of light. . .

The light is a reflection of you.
The love spewing forth as largess
from the largest cup
is what you have to give.

And the supply is neverending. . .