Waiting on this cold night for the moon to rise over the roof
of the house next to mine. So cold if the stars shiver the sky
will crack. So still that a moon cannot rise.
Still enough that I get tired of waiting on the world’s motions,
crawl in bed and shoulder under the blanket
and when I raise my head stars and moon have sped their arc
into tomorrow, the spears of dawn are rattling in the street,
and nothing has stayed still about the world
except my place in it, beside you, still spooning me
in your sleep, your breath soft on my neck as a bird
shadow skims the winter wind outside the window
and a shaking branch stands by, slurs, stills, and you stir.
for my wife Mary, on her birthday.
Really beautiful, Jeff.
Thanks Len. It was so cold I almost didn’t write at all last night. But birthdays won’t wait.
Yes, birthdays come whether we want them to or not. Have a good day celebrating your wife’s birthjday today.
What a beautiful gift, for us and for Mary. Happy birthday to her.
Thanks Ann! Stay warm.
I took a photo of the moon tonight, Jeff, when it was really cold (but not as cold as this morning).
If it’s on your site, i’ll have to pay it a visit!
Dear God, Jeff! Just exquisite! I am quite blown away by the power of this poem.
I was so entranced by this poem on this frigid morning, I forgot to shiver! And I bet Mary’s smile was very warm indeed when she read it. 🙂