december moon

(8 quatrains)

1. new moon

contrail on a diagonal between black clouds
inscribes sunset’s salmon pink on fading blue—

bare tree limbs' dark alphabet overhead: hard
to decipher the beginning in the end

2. waxing crescent

white vans’ diagonal line under spotlit
silver & red foil streamers fluttering straight—

next block, hornbeam limbs curve black against headlights:
white comma curls between clouds, is then erased

3. half moon

opaque ice patch by arched bicycle staples;
curve of headlight turning on the boulevard—

walk sign urgent through gorge & ocean wind swirl:
white half-circle heavy within its halo

4. waxing  gibbous

rain falls soft, stops, undecided; snow patches
linger around a few anonymous trees,

while birch leaves float on boughs, yellow ghosts: above,
unfulfilled circle shines where clouds split & merge

5. full moon
two bike racks shaped like spectacles, rarely used;
gray panel’s nine electrical meters; one

shopping cart left empty on the frosted grass—
this pure circle contained within the ensō

6. waning gibbous

oblong paper lanterns glimmer white & gold;
snow crust shrinking away from tree trunks & roots—

cumulus deforming west to east allow
enough space for a circle missing one edge

7. last quarter

two paperwhite flowers unfold pure atop
its longest stem; the blinds’ dusty slats twisted

open, no one walking past—in the sectioned
sky beyond: lefthand hemisphere floats hidden

8. waning crescent
contrail merges with sun-blinded cumulus
two bicyclists pedal past chatting; I-5’s

vague drone under the arched pedestrian bridge—
satellite's leading edge: nowhere to be seen



Jack Hayes
© 2016