Last night, the "wolf moon's" crepuscular aura glowed.
A luminous peach orb, it hung in its abode
so spectacularly, that I silently slowed
my weekend walk through the willowwacks, while words flowed,
as molten lava from volcanoes would explode.
Its afterimage was like a handsel bestowed,
bewitching in a pulchritudinous yellowed
radiation that etiolated, 'twas stowed
in the recesses of my mind, an episode,
a pageant suspended in mythopoeic mode,
that called out in its classical clarion code -
thoughts emanating from moonlight, my path had showed.
01/14/17
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