Who touched me… tender through the stellar maze

Of Perseus and the Pleiades? What whispered urge

Caressed my senses… caused the sky to merge

With treetops… nebulous beyond the haze

Of tears that fell, betraying my malaise?

What source… what subtle microcosmic surge

Came gently, called by night? A psychic purge…

From Jupiter? Arcturus? Moon-tossed rays?

The snow sparks hot beneath the trees

This mid-night as the moon lights up the frost.

And I, a limp receptacle, lie wide

And placid under cobweb galaxies.

Who touched me? Touched me… tender? What was lost?

Ah, you out there! My God! I thought you died!

Phyllis Olson ©