Full Moon Bruise

This poem spun out of a quote by my four year old. However, these words have a slightly different premise than his original musing.

The moon breaks in the dark morning. Blue
black sky drips thick along side streets, snow
packed and slick, a plowed hem gathering
us along icy corners, mounds, and stitch.

Inside we stir among the dry walls
with careful words and warm tempers.
Winter mornings draw stories on seals
and windows; color in sharp corners
full of white and wind. The cold buries
its breath inside us like an awkward
draft, a sharp tenor leaving a bruise,
a glistening fissure rattling glass.


  1. Oh no!!! For those of us with winter, warm seems far too elusive this year. Ah but spring turns over today for us in the US and well, I’m hoping for a sliver of sun and just a note of heat. Waiting patiently (sort of)…

      1. Let’s write about spring (if it ever decides to show up). I don’t know what the weather looks like right now in Norway, or how your seasons transition, but in the US, especially in the part of the country where I am, we’ve had a long, very cold winter this year.

        I am ready to think and write about warmer weather!

      2. Hello there :) Well, opened the curtains yesterday morning and there lay the snow. The weirdest winter here yet. No snow. So…those spring poems are a little out of reach tonight…I am desperate to live in warm weather…Big sigh…Any sudden changes? :)

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