If the clouds would shift for an instant, 

I would know there was still a moon.

I would look behind me and laugh because, how silly, it was only the wind, 

And the pounding of my own heart, deceitful above all things. 

The whisper of the leaves would change from "Run" to "Breathe", to "Stay", to "Slow." 

But they have gathered tighter, the clouds,

 The leaves, perfectly still because of course, there is no wind,

Cannot lie.