1.

The cold winter moon
spills its luminous
jewels of fire
past the edge
of the road.

The night wind shudders
at the sound.
I turn my head.

A woman’s lovely,
shadowed face
ignites the plains
in silence.

In the distance,
wings light upon branches.

 2.

The long sad bones
of my hands cut deep
into dark stones.

I walk alone, listening,
among white fields.

This time, I have left something behind me.

In the open grasses
I will dream of placid water.