Too much spring

I dreamed Georgia
last night, a sweet
darkness unseen, but there
snakes, peanut fields
a warm February with
grass twisted between
my fingers, the heavy
smell of earth as it
exists, a pond
one lone boat
with its peeled paint-
and there, on the dark
side of the earth shadow
a full moon, perfect-
rough glitter on the water
where we swim to forget
the day outside of skin,
what heat was-
and where are you, in
all this
smooth half of a circle
lowering to the river
stars, the sudden one that falls
and is gone-
my hand,
closing.