Grief of Secrets

“Yes, in the predawn black the slim slip of the waning moon”
…from: Remote Friends, by: Jim Harrison.

 

Wolf moon hung heavy
once more
in its passing

its bulbous orb
rolled
through cold chromium fog

wet clouds
smeared themselves
across its face

like translucent billows
of glistening moonbeams
shivering midnight

that sorrowing hour
again laid bare my soul
in grief of secrets

*
rob kistner © 2022

Poetry at: dVerse