"We saw the last embers of daylight die,
And in the trembling blue-green of the sky
A moon, worn as if it had been a shell
Washed by times waters as they rose and fell
About the stars and broke in days and years..."
From "Adam's Curse" by W. B. Yeats
Winter blinds me to blue sky by day.
I tilt my head at night instead.
My eyes search out constellations,
reading Braille by stars:
Orion the Hunter,
Taurus the Bull,
Canis Minor...
It steadies me somehow to feel the stars in place.
Not so the waxing, waning moon.
She's a bright sharp sickle tonight.
Like Yeats I have a thought for no-one's but your ears:
That I have been too quiet in love.
We wound ourselves on the sharp edges of each other,
And I'm weary-hearted and hollow,
Breaking stones until the moon is full again.
