Growing moon trees in the sky.

Moonbranches spreads on the skin of the winter sky;
Clouds crossing the nocturnal universe;
The visible weaves knots with the invisible filaments of the heavens;
Slow stillness shifts -- on the highways of endless space;

How i'd have loved to follow your hands -- changing the sky into storms; and the storms into skies
While -- you lift words out of silence, to peel the face of the horizon;
Yet not a word is said.