January

from A Year Beside the Banks of Broad Run

The moon is bright – the sky is clear – Orion
Stands to guard the southern sky. I know
My steps must leave a trail in the dust of snow
That sparkles in the celestial silver light;
But still I wander on – and marvel at the show
Of winter’s beauty on this sleepless New
Year’s night – and its lonesome aching, too.
 
All the world is consumed – as am I –
By black and white – the clouds are flakes of snow
That drift across the night’s obsidian sky;
The ebon grass; the stars which beautify
The black of night; the misty, haloed glow
That hangs about the silver moon to show
The paths ahead where I must choose to go.


Originally published in The Journal of the Virginia Writers Club (Summer 2024)