Between two blue moons, swollen
and smooth as the noonday sky.

Not on the 4th of July.
Neither on Remembrance Day.

Won’t be raining, snowing, or
the wind blowing cold and gray.

My shadow will lead the way,
seeking out among the cracks

in the concrete and all those
discarded parts of other

people’s lives for the right path
to take, that dime to turn on.

Between one blink of an eye
and the next. First standing there

solid as a rock, then not;
the hour is getting late.