Tuesday, December 4, 2012

New Hampshire By Howard Moss

#1:

When the loons cry,
The night seems blacker,
The water deeper.
.
Across the shore:
An eyelash-charcoal
Fringe of pine trees.

#2:

The lake reflects
Indefinite pewter.
.
And intermittent thunder
lets us know.
.
The gods are arriving,
one valley over.

#3:

After the long
Melancholy of the fall,
One longs for the crisp
Brass shouts of winter-
.
The blaze of firewood,
The window's spill
of parlor lamplight
Across the snow.

#4:

Flaring like a match
Dropped in a dry patch,
One sunset tells
the spectrum's story.
.
See the last hunter's
Flashlight dim
As he hurries home
To his lighted window.

No comments:

Post a Comment