Again and still

The slight alley-walking steps of
dripping drops
in the cloud-sealed moon-gloom
through the pensite trees
in the slow, steady, stilled
waiting for the morning
climbing into glow, facing
rounder into the light
again. Again, the ungainly,
steadystate of wait as to how this will now turn out,
this time, and the range around
from many paths possible
into one, that future
that will pass into the random
thoughts of looking back in the moon
gloom,
the drops dripping,
the path, taken, given, and walked,
the path that spoke of motion
and,
yet, was always still