Full Moon

Full Moon The ivory orb of the moon hangs low in the sky, Above the distant line of trees, a wreath of thin Cloud softening the disk and weaving a silken aura. A thousand miles away, yet just down the road, Distant trees are silhouetted just the same; Reminder of past moments when the moon Was full, and I was there. The evening air is still warm, heavy with moisture, The overture of the Build-up, its sticky mantle Wrapped against the flesh in a troppo embrace. A dog barks. In the distance a wailing siren Comes closer, then fades and the night closes in. Higher now, ivory hardening to a whiter shade, The moon is witness to passing time below.