At night

A stranger that I know
lies deeply in leafy mold.
We speak by mumbles in opportune nights.
He is always looking away
to some mystery
true and precious,
but I cannot follow his eye.
He surprises me on inopportune days-
pulling those strings,
a pretense of wings,
unknowable things.

[Image: https://pixabay.com/users/darkmoonart_de-1664300/ ]

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