September night
thick-aired, damp,
heavy with weight of day,
slow as prayer
raises the moon
ruddy gold
soon ice white
but,
for this brief Now
of autumn rite,
glowing fermata
over a thousand crickets
piping.
Category Archives: night
January 24.19
Night lingers
in cobalt shadow
while stars dawdle
on winter’s bones.
Disconnections: December 31.18
Star-bearing elder
tower of green
enwrapped in rainbowed
brigandine
too brief its light
too short its spell
in meaning too
ephemeral.
Every night, dear reader, I look across the pond at my neighbor’s gorgeous old evergreen with its brilliant joyful display of light. My own little tree puffs up in imitation.
Disconnections: December 24.18
NORAD-linked
the man in the moon
winks through the treetops:
it’s Christmas soon.
Reconnoitering
for Donner and Vixen,
seeing if any rooftop
needs fixin’.
Disconnections: December 10.18
In feeble imitation
we aspire
in manmade constellation
of bulb and wire
to capture stars
of eons sired.
From night’s black depth
atop vast spire
two hoary lights,
amused, admire.
Thanks yet again to photographer S. W. Berg for this beauty.
And happy birthday to Emily Dickinson!
Disconnections: November 15.18
Winter sketch
ice lines
hard and bright
crystal’d maple
catching
freezing
lamplight.
And so it starts, dear reader: winter comes on crackling ice feet, and it’s here this morning.
Disconnections: October 29.18
When brutalities of day
give way
to candlelight of moon
do we find ease
and breathe
stillness?
Or do we ask
is it mere mask
for predator
conspirator
and illness?
Those of us who try to write struggle to find words for the anguish. Maybe there are none.
