no more crescents
to sketch out on lined paper
the waiting is over
except for this last night
but I still hold out hope
of seeing one last sliver of the moon
as if to remind me (perhaps)
that time isn’t passing so quickly

I know it’s a lie

another autumn’s nearly gone
and, with it, another moon

now I stand before
the next holiday season
now I am perched
at the precipice of the first snow
now I am not quite ready
to shiver at the first frost
(already come and gone)
that left my car covered in an icy glaze
like sugar
and you wrote your name
on my windshield

now we’re done
but for tonight, so
bring on the November moon

Written by

Occasional poet. Writer of sad essays. Novelist. Birder and amateur photographer. I enjoy trees.

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