Clair
de Lune
Hills
hold handsome in starch-white
Collars,
as a winter moon rises, erasing
The
darkness tucked deep between trees,
And
the field appears like a vast canvas
That’s
been stretched taut by wooden slats
Of
barn and crooked fence posts. Now we
Await
a mutable landscape, deaf with cold
And
drawn from whimsy, of eerie silhouettes
Formed
by leafless branches and glazed
Thickets
of evergreens etched upon the snow
In
cold chiaroscuro, as the moon glides
Light-footed
across the heavens rummaging
Thru
its monastic sack for fragments of chalk –
Mica-black,
quarry-gray and a rare, sparsely
Used
silver-blue – that’s sliding down metal
Roof
tops and frosting layers of pond ice –
Before
the canvas is altered by thin strands
Of
cloud and delicate wisps of snow dust.
John Muro
A
resident of Connecticut, John’s a graduate of Trinity College, Wesleyan
University and the University of Connecticut. His first volume of poems, In
the Lilac Hour, was published last fall by Antrim House, and it is available on
Amazon. His poems have appeared or are forthcoming in numerous literary
journals, including River Heron, Sheepshead, Third Wednesday, Moria, Ariel
Chart and the French Literary Review.