Above a two a.m. patio
the moon hung low
and treetops brushed her skirt hem
like a lap cat.
Shadows played between garden blooms
and worries seeped through my seams.
Unraveled, they slipped away -
silent ribbons braided
in the mockingbird's song.
Lilies glowed, backlit by moonlight
and for the moment, so did I.