Poem With No Title
I was coming home from a wake last night. I was on this stretch of road in Warren, and the almost full moon was shining over a field. I know moon poems are cliche, but this one sorta just came to me. I tried to get it into a proper haiku form, but I couldn’t say what I wanted to within the form. Finally I just figured “Look, it hasn’t got the right amount of syllables. The feel, though, is decent. So keep what you got.” Here it is.
The moon hangs luminous
in the mid-winter blue black sky
A Victorian milk-glass door knob.