Rain intercepts the motes that travel earthward
from the galaxy, sublimating stardust
in the deliquescent river-dark,
glistening on crescent leaves of pallid x-ray eucalypts,
lingering like kisses on a million sickle surfaces
lacquered to deflect the sun, luminous beneath the Moon,
liberating each one from day's brutal
basilisk regard, anticipating lunar rays,
nocturnal rainbows shimmering
where sheerest spray drifts spectral as the stars.
Between the rain's spasmodic dreams
the Moon glimpses Earth's sleeping cheek,
gazing on the mother-planet's slumber from afar,
their movements synchronising
as celestial somnambulists
turning in the planetary pavane
devised by gravity, a choreography
for time and mass, for wave and particle,
backlit by ghost-emissions from a zillion dying stars.