A moon cow
golden yellow
wreathed in roses
seems to flow from
the music of the violin,
the bow held
by a solitary hand.
Bovine nostrils lift
into the night-mist,
and her parted lips smile.
Looking down
above the church spire
a green angel hovers like
a luna-moth held by the light
of the lovers:
the man in wedding black
right arm around
his bride’s waist
left arm curving over his head
echoes the angel.
Outside the frame
I breathe in the night,
cling to luminosity.