Star Herders

we have become star herders now
walking slowly on either side
of an embellished sky,
whistling alternate silences,
the moon follows us for a while
then slips away to confer with the trees,
frowning,
the pretzeled shadows of the past
with their wolf tails
are slinking into the ever encroaching dark,
what does it matter where it began,
what does it matter what was said,
we stop to let the galaxy
drink from a bygone stream,
now we can be strangers every night,
taste the quiet anew,
feel the shimmering space expand,
what does it matter who was wrong,
we nod politely,
round up constellations,
the rain is coming down now,
whispering,
we pitch our separate tents
against the obtuse glance of the mountain,
and pretend
that the stars have been saved,
that the moon is asleep,
that the wind lying between us is warm breath,
that our dreams are about
other people
smiling.