Watch this winter wolf moon.
Here, grab a coat, sit with me on my deck.
Sky colors, pink, yellow, violet-
light up bright beneath this lunar face.
Watch, spellbound next to me,
quiet, no distraction. There is power
in the moon. Look, how the stars know their place,
let the moon howl at center stage.
Full brilliant light rules the night.
Emotion speaks on its own accord. Listen.
Watch till clouds cover the face of the moon.
I love this poem all the way through “Emotion speaks on its own accord. Listen.” —and once I’ve read those lines I long for nothing more, feeling as if I have gotten to where the poem needs me to be. (I can’t tell you how often I’ve written “moon” and backed away from the draft—finishing a moon poem is a momentous act!)
Mary, the reader is right there with you!