Winter Moon Waxing

Winter Moon Waxing

 

No bird in the bare trees this evening
No rain or wind, no snow’s cushioned silence.
The twisted branch is capped, the sap beneath waiting
The clouds are without qualities this mild lonely night
In hours with wind from the north their drift would be enough
Even the moon behind them is too bland
Oh where is the weather to absorb sorrow
This vacant dark not empty only reflects

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