The jazz of the moon shone all
night.� Serial trumpet song touched
down a whisper stepping montage
undulating conversational open space.
Pulse contraptions within modes of wind
tapped a rhythm drum, echoes leaped
in spiraled inundation.� Lake of patterned
voices spoke applause in circling itself,
several laps of feeding frenzy.� Oak
dropped leaves toward gray topped shadows,
fingers keying ground
serenading the crawling unseen.
Felino Soriano