National Poetry Day, yes? Good, here’s my poem. A bit rough and ready, I fear.

The moon rose
in daylight
through hesitant mist,
so we stumbled
beneath closed eyes
into its unheeded light.
In twilight sunsets
we walk, crashing,
laughing,
splashing,
every puddle a trimuph.

A broken reflection
spatters the late sun
shine as star shine
briefly
on dark asphalt.
Drops
on the pavement reformed
moments
on tarmac’s pitted skin.