Poem for a new year . . .

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there’s something about
the winter moon,
something in
its craggy glow,
something about
its skin like snow.

there’s something about
its languid pace,
something in
its heatless grace—
something about
it hanging there,
rootless in
the twilight air…

though not a word,
a sigh, a kiss,
can ever pass
its chiseled lips,
it bathes me in
its waxy light,
swaddles me
in endless night,
giant clock
in giant sky,
ticking as
the days go by.

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2 thoughts on “Poem for a new year . . .

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