The Long Night’s Moon Has Come
The Long Night’s Moon Has Come
I wander the world dwelling in one
dark blue eventide after another,
Frequenting mountains, caves, forests
and other lonely places,
where hunting sparrowhawks send
small birds shattering out of branches
and into the mouths of waiting foxes.
Sometimes the sky brightly glitters in parts
while being ominously dark in others, often
foretelling storm, rain or snow:
fine, wind-driven snow disorienting and
obscuring the northern stars so I lose my way,
or 'dog’s-feet-snow’ falling in large flakes,
quickly blanketing the landscape
and freezing even the shadows under the trees.
I look sunward to feel its warmth on my face,
its apricity, and remember the shimmering
eldritch mirages of the brutal heat
in the southern latitudes
destroying all equilibrium and sanity.
I just want to close my eyes and sleep now
or else shout my regrets at the lone skylark
riding the currents of all that emptiness.
And then there is this moon
glowing and round, strong light flowing
like a river through the night sky
a giant portal to the heavens.
I lean back, conquered, defenseless,
surrendered in full, completely subsumed,
until that delicate pink blush above the horizon
arrives, with its beautiful wild edges.
published in A New Ulster
