DAY AND NIGHT OF NEW MOON

  1

Snowgeese lift from the flooded fields.

South of the river, where the valley’s

flat for miles, the seeping land is patched

with crop flowers and seed cabbage.

The foothills have their last snow,

the water its last reflection of snow.

  2

In the dark

lilac is opening. In the house

I listen to sixteenth century rondos.

The music moves in a circle,

it wants us to recognize our abundance.

It wanders, but has the virtue of resolution.

It gives a hint of the way we should move,

the actual way we should do it.

                  —Glenn Hughes  (1951- )