february moon

(8 quatrains)

1. new moon

white cabin cruiser churns its wake across high

rises reposing in the water—five sculls 

at anchor just past mirrored Hawthorne towers:

unseen satellite in invisible sky

2. waxing crescent

calligraphy of the one crow winging south;

gray magnolia bracts pointing to what comes

next & upward past black intersecting wires:

pale arc like a keel rising, sinking in blue

3. half moon

white corona of iced cherry boughs under

the streetlight; rosemary needles glazed too but

reflect nothing except when a car goes past—

rainfall through the halfway glow, the halfway black

4. waxing  gibbous

spiderweb angled across the doorframe traced

silver in white porchlight & front steps washed black

in earlier rain: circumferenced by clouds, that

circle always constant, light always shifting

5. full moon

three camellias have unfolded white beyond

porchlight’s reach; still, the lace curtain has picked up

both glimmer & sharp leaf shadows; unfazed by

clouds in shambles: consummated white circle

6. waning gibbous

white pickets streaked with black algae rise stark in

streetlights; rhododendrons clasping buds tight cast

a web of shadows across the pale sidewalk:

clouds draw lines through the blurred diminished circle

7. last quarter

black station wagon headlights headed north past

the avenue’s twisted bare-limbed cherries; one

cedar spires against lapis lazuli sky:

flock of crows flies past the hazy quarter sphere

8. waning crescent

crow takes its place that one moment in weeping

cherry’s tangled hair, lifts up its wings, takes flight,

nonchalant, without comment through blue shimmer:

crow may perceive that trace of the letter C

Jack Hayes

© 2017