By Mushroom Montoya
Even though I barely
heard her whisper,
“Look over here,”
Cactus beamed her wide
smile,
Shushing me,
“Shh. The others are
still sleeping.
Aren’t they so precious
in their slumber,
Waiting for the sky to
ombre,
So, they could sing,
With gaping mouths,
Their glorious arias
To la Luna.
