The Moon Shines Shattered Icicles

The moon shines shattered icicles;

shards of starlight pierce the shadows ;

sharp and silent pictures lie

clear and quiet on the road.


(If the frost didn’t glitter so, I could see the eyes

of the shadows behind my thoughts.)


The moonlight pours white water

that the darkness takes and drinks and

freezes to clear crystal prisms,

drifts of diamonds, glinting in the dark.


(If I look closely, I can watch them slinking

through the currents of my mind.)


The stars write shining stories,

spinning through the dark blue sky

silver letters making paragraphs

and fables far above the trees.


(If I could tell the stories, they would not be

so clear and sharp and silver.)


The starlight dances circles

tiny patterns in frost-heaved ground.

Too close to corners wrapped with dark

blankets, sheltering blinking shadows.


(A wink of glittering starlight would undo the shadows

if I didn’t stand between.)

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