Hail, bright crescent, presiding at first frost
when the garden finally gives up its ghost,
and winter makes good on its yearly boast,
to savage each tree ’till its leaves lie lost.
Blackbird flocks coolly calculate the cost
of staying behind; elm proves a poor host
and fox has cunning plans to make the most
of all his neighbors: each will he accost
in turn, demanding a tithe of their blood.
Mouse scurries in the dark, hiding from owl
who hunts over meadows of withered grass.
Once-dry streams become a shivering flood,
tremoring at touch of coyote’s howl,
which shatters the forest roof like verdant glass.
I’ve more or less decided to write another twenty-four new and full moon sonnets for 2006, so that I have two sets: one for years when the new moon comes early in the month, and another set for when the new moon comes late in the month. Haven’t figured out how to handle blue moons yet, other than to take them as they come.
As it is, there are only three sonnets left in this particular cycle, and then it’s time to do one edit through, and then think about finding a publisher. If I just publish the sonnets, it’s not a very large collection; if I publish the quarter and cross-quarter days, it’s much larger. But that’s a discussion for a later time.