Anthony Dalby - Sickle Moon

the sickle moon hangs in the sky
peach silk clouds
wood smoke drifts across

an ending and a beginning
a convolution of gaseous ash
a shroud to hide with

but
the moon is the same
still
humming
mirrored in the glow of the white blossom chalices
constant in the moment of change

my mind tries to hold the humming
'Stay! ', it says....
it runs through my fingers like spring water
wood smoke on the evening air...

Anthony Dalby

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sickle-moon/