There is so little

There is so little

There is so little we can do
to change a scrap of the world for someone else,
shift the perspective, the light,

let it slant a different way,
reflecting sky and water, not traffic flow,
gold and silver among tree trunks instead of city blocks.

There is no ship that sails from me to you
with white sails billowing salty and dolphined,
seal-sung and crisp beneath spring stars,

but there are thoughts,
like hands that hold with curled fingers,
like constellations, the joined up words of stories,
told one star at a time.