Yet
let me again

tell you about
the moon

how it's
full and muscular

and how the bare
branches

make it look
vascular

I've been searching
all of my poetic life

for an apt description
of this magnitude

and it came


when a January
fog

was shrouding
the morning

no reason
and not much rhyme

but no less
angelic

Whit Howland © 2020