Tag Archives: fullmoonsocial

Snow moon


Snow moon

Not the owl whose short questions are strung
On this line of dark hours like rosary beads.

Not the cloud’s cold eyelid closing over
The near-empty parking lot in each of our minds.

What drove you there and what were you trying
To buy on such a night when the moon arcs away

Like the last snowball you threw at a friend
You outgrew without knowing? They both faded,

They both landed somewhere beyond sight.
Not the short-tempered ladder to memory.

The night’s too wide to haunt. But for a few
Moments, it opened its eye to look at you

And swept across your life without noticing:
Who you missed, who you hit, how cold

Your hands were when it took shape.
And an idea drifted down un-owned

And clung to you like frost, an owl flown,
A string of prayers creased by doubt.

Moonflower [#fullmoonsocial]



The screech owl is moaning tonight as Mars
Moors over the walnut trees. Its call whittles

Away the dusk and the day’s shavings drift
Between leaves then sink to the grass

And become crickets. This small hilly town
Is full of vultures and most of them sit quietly

On the cell tower on the highest hill here
As below them the volume ramps up.

Above my head the loblolly pines reach out
awkwardly to the night like lonely brothers

missing the sisters they stopped talking to back
when nobody could be trusted. Vultures

Can be trusted to be exactly what they are.
The cell tower they gather on is in a park

Called Reservoir Park, which, being on top
Of a hill, has no reservoir and is the one park

In town which does not flood during heavy rain.
The screech owl doesn’t so much screech

As it makes you want to find it, and not being
Able to find it makes you want to screech.

This small hilly town. A memory from this morning
Of the low sun emerging through the center

Of the moonflower. The loblolly pines shrugging
As if they don’t want what they want. The crickets

Playing late summer’s encore over and over. Unseen
Sources of sound and light like a reservoir

For my unfocused thoughts, like a small flower
So brilliant its edges seem a new kind of call

From a small owl announcing summer’s over.




It’s after cats but before owls.
The moon fills its pockets and hangs

Out behind the house next door.
Like the sky’s a comfortable side street

You can ride a skateboard or bike along
And find a new favorite skipping stone

You’ll hold onto until the next time
At the creek, which will be days from now

And you think of the curve of her shoulder
As she threw and the water was too

Respectful to swallow the stone, the
Three steps it took on the water and the click

Of it coming to rest on the other bank
And like that you’re rising, full of someone

Else’s light, up above the neighborhood
And the whole world can see you now,

Like the sun on her shoulder,
The whole world can see.

[#fullmoonsocial] Waiting for the moon to rise over the power lines behind the fields by the old school for the deaf and the blind

[#fullmoonsocial] Waiting for the moon to rise over the power lines behind the fields by the old school for the deaf and the blind

Home of the cardinals.
The train sound twins as it passes through

Echoing off unresponsive brick and glass
Over the darkening grass. It’s like there are two

Trains, the past casting an echo of the future
And then it’s gone, both of them

And still no moon.

#fullmoonsocial tonight!


The moon has not yet quite risen here in Virginia. Gaze, glance, glare at that moon and write something. Then tag it #fullmoonsocial so we can all join in. Whether you see it in a quiet rural place or a blurry suburban parking lot, it’s up there. Which means there’s the stuff of poetry out there for you to grab.

I’ll reblog what I see throughout the night…