mirrors like the moon love hearing my secrets

I love the night, it's where she sometimes replies.

I don’t have any gold
and I suppose I don't possess
anything they call excess,
assets for me are intangible―
I know this because
my eagerness I've noticed.

I want to solve riddles
where conundrums matter little
but to me they mean everything
but about this I've stayed quietly.

I haven't written a doting letter―
probably since twenty thirteen
or was it eighteen?
I don't want to remember.

I've been tilling chambers,
places where things are safe
where I keep them warm
by preparing open heartscapes―
      but now the moon is rising
      and I still find things surprising.