moon

we pulse along the black asphalt
cutting through black grasping woods
silhouetted against a not-black sky

the moon lies low alone above
through the flickering limbs
monstrous global palely grand

unchanging mutability
stone cold
fired by imagination

ride above the road
we dive for the gate
beneath you—impossible

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/wordcurrents/ Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
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