When the sun has sunken
three feet below the trees,
rays no longer haloing the leaves,
the sundial is no longer aimed at me,
but at thee.

Find me by the sundial,
because I stalk the sun.
I wade through a
silver-streaked lake, or
an ink-laden river,
that shimmers and glistens
as if an iridescent arrow
is giving me directions.

I don’t follow my fellow,
I only follow folly,
and the lit up paths are
my tacks on a map.

Once the sun has sunken,
roughly three feet beneath the trees,
the rays no longer haloing the leaves,
I might as well
look for thee,
since the sundial is no longer pointed at me.

So in this game
of Seek and Seek,
sundial me,
and I’ll look for you
by the rays of the moon.