Monthly Archives: December 2012

Change of Place

Winter Sky

Winter Sky

The sky is gray now but I can see the pink and blue of sunrise in the east. It is 6:30 and I am walking Thor up the hill of a dark street in upstate New York.  There are no street lights here and only a crescent moon so I am walking in the middle of the road.  Thor is busy sniffing and peeing in the roadside bushes tethered to me by a fifteen foot leash.  The crisp silence of this late autumn morning is disturbed by a sudden wind that jostles the bare tree branches.  I look up at the brightening sky.

That’s no bird on the top branch of one of the tallest trees.  It’s a leaf—maybe the last one on that tree—clinging even as the wind lifts it skyward then drops it down.  My attention is pulled away from this sight by the clack, clack, clack of a very long train judging from the time it takes for the sound of metal on metal and the intermittent cry of the horn to cease.  I walk only a few feet before I here two quick shots—bangbang—reverberate through the air.  Is it hunting season?

I am suddenly chilly.  I rush the dog back home and into the warm kitchen.

 

 

 

Full Moon, Long Island, November, 2012

Last week the moon was full for the first time since Hurricane Sandy.  What a different moon it was.I  In the early evening, it was big in the eastern sky and, in the early morning, it began its decent into the western horizon, hazy but bright.  It has been on my mind since.  Yesterday, I wrote the following Fibonacci poem to our moon.

You

hard

cruel

misshapen

ball of reflection

dangling from shiny white diamonds.

You cannot believe I’ll ever look at you the same

after your October power play so destructive you hid yourself behind clouds.

You pushed, you heaved and the ocean coughed up its insides hurling water walls every twelve hours, shoving wantonly against the low, soft earth.

Now, you are a beautiful pearl gliding through the sky, giving sight to the darkness–a well-worn expression of the natural world–placed in the sky for lovers and dreamers, a placid symbol of the triumph of the unknown.