Ephemeral Elegies (Online) April 2020
Tonight the moon is new;
only a few dim stars trapped in onyx,
granite-cold wind near midnight;
sound of the river, distant, empty,
washes across the frosted space
where new snow fell this morning.
When I saw you last,
your image receding in the window
at dawn, a faint sail on a far horizon,
the bland November sunrise reflected
on the thin glass like lake ice, I knew
I would find myself alone tonight,
humbled under the darkest sky,
wondering where you are, and
searching for the vanished moon.