Winter Moon

She mounts the heavens nightly in the cold.
In her curving orbit stately, ancient grace.
She eradicates the day, brings forth the night.

I never feel so loved as in the night.
Surrounded by her light, her gaze so cold,
the stars surrounding her with twinkling grace.

No lovers could compare to her in grace,
the way she carves out pathways in the night
and bathes me in her nimbent light, so cold.

Cold and full of grace, the moon appears
and guides me gently through each winter night.


Featured image found here.

Someone gently rapping.

A fluke, a quiet, shuffling sound. The tapping came, unasked for, as I sat writing. A tap, a rap, and then silence. I checked, but I saw nothing. Back to writing, my pen, unguided by my hand, had scrawled out, simply, “HELP.”