On the Nature of Moonlight

A full-moon crests the night

of new year’s promise,

drenching the land in its

monochromatic glow.


I stand,


music spilling from my lips,

breath streaming through the air

in heated clouds

as the cold night bears down

wind from the mountain-top.

Cirrus constellations above

blot out the moon, for a moment,

before white light prevails

in an instant of chilly gusts.


My lips and toes have gone numb,

the tops of my ears hurt.

Bitter cold has no better description

than the temperature this night—


yet still, I do not move.


The music within my soul

responds to the pull

to sing, music of new beginnings,

promises, hope and joy.

Notes befitting a first soprano

fall from my chapped lips,

fill the air around me with warmth

until I radiate heat from within.


I am the sun,

and the moon


my light.



–January 1st, 2018


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