Night Thoughts in Winter

Walking a slippery, uneven and unknown path, in the darkness of night,
I can see the beauty of a myriad of crisp and glittering stars,
and fullness of the moon, round and luminous and curved.

The moon like the hips of a woman that I would want to hold
in the middle of a winters' night,
nestled so close that her heat would almost scorch,
her breath slow and regular and completely at ease,
her heart pulsing against her sternum, and up my fingertips.

But I'm walking outside through the winter night,
all that beauty channeled through my eyes to my brain,
not through my fingers to my heart,
Wondering how many moons might wax and wane,
before I feel a pulse,
or my brain tells me to walk into the night,
and I listen.