Life With Horace

poetry & essays



the still bright reach
of setting moon on snow
slender plum tree shadows
reaching from the west,
coyote yips and calls
caroming off the mountain
through black ice
ribbon wrapped woods,
snaking through
my open window arrow slit,
rousing the defenders
of this sleeping winter bastion
to make their voices heard
our pennant flown in answer

nothing gets dogs up from sleep to full on barks faster than the coyote pack at night.

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bright shadows

a snowless moon, if full
is no less bright
with patterned shadows
stretching over grass
and creeping up the outer walls,
those dark, strong arms
that cast their reach
like rod and line
out over streams,
a weightless overlay,
yet angular and hard.
my room is bright,
the window’s echo
stands in bold relief
against the wall,
angled down in stark perspective
as the moon begins to set.

the moon, nearly full last night, cast amazing shadows both inside and outside, which stayed with me until I woke up this morning. Day 18 of NaPoWriMo 2014.