Thursday, August 31, 2017

August Moon

(8 quatrains)

1. new moon

chrome hubcap complete with bolts lies on blacktop
as if about to set below the curb’s rise—

yucca stalks against white sky, blossoms faded:
moon’s blank disc invisible past the pink clouds

2. waxing crescent

twilight’s losing its cobalt blue momentum;
it comes down to three red lights suspended in

a horizon silver as that one stopped car:
pinprick planet next to this swelling crescent

3. half moon

bare chestnut limbs a character inked on this
violet sky—what does their radical mean?

white musk odor of Queen Anne’s lace on the lawn:
half moon bowing its head in recollection

4. waxing gibbous

those nameless trees on the side street look that much
darker than the sky; bus stop shelter absorbs

the red light’s spill, but is otherwise empty—
moon out of round against a purple curtain

5. full moon

three moths flash off & on, eccentric spirals
through the security light’s high amber heat—

out of sight between dark houses, cars murmur:
moon catches metallic sun in empty night

6. waning gibbous

the Siamese cat materializes
from the patio shikimi, blending with

patched concrete, parched grass, illuminated leaves:
moon rises past the roof without commotion

7. last quarter

this sun highlights the galvanized downspout’s joints;
the hummingbird feeder, dangling from a beam,

is filled with sugar water, & plums shine ripe,
but the half moon’s upturned bowl sinks into clouds

8. waning crescent

the parking strip sunflower’s grown too heavy
to look up at the black & white prop plane as

it circles that crow standing in Queen Anne’s lace;
this moon has grown so faint you’d need to look twice

Jack Hayes
© 2017

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