Tuesday, January 6, 2015

So cold the moon

So Cold the Moon

I went out on our back porch,
which faces East,
and the wood creaked from the cold.
My teeth got cold,
smoking a cigarette.

It's almost too cold to smoke,
but not just yet.
Smoke in my mouth and smoke
from our neighbor's chimney
in front of the moon and Venus,
just below.

The moon is so full tonight,
through the smoke,
and so cold.

I used to hate the chill,
but no more.
Something clear and silent
about the cold
gives me a quiet joy.

Something pure and crystalline
about such cold.
Something smokey and dark,
and something in the moon,
so high, so frozen, so alone.

Except for Venus, just below.

To the East from my back porch.

And smoke—across the moon
and in my mouth,
with my chill teeth.

Epiphany 2015

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some ponderings by an aging white man who is an Episcopal priest in Connecticut. Now retired but still working and still wondering what it all means...all of it.