The moon rises overhead

-A saffron eye

looking down at me

through the thin

October air

It sees everything

-Unblinking-

as it glides

across the sky

without challenge

I look upon it

-And thin fingers of sulfur

stretch into the heavens
above

as a dream is born

in the quiet of the night

A lonesome howl in the distance

-Betrays the silence

and I watch the hills

in earnest

for the break of dawn

T. Wolff � 1998

Moonlight Press