Winter Moon Pantoum

Hanging Heart 2
By Ricki Mandeville

Outside, a scarf of light around a throat of moon,
a wind slipping a veil of clouds around the stars,
and I’m a silhouette behind a frosted windowpane,
craving the silent benediction of snow.

A wind slipping a veil of clouds around the stars;
steep hillsides buried deep in fallen leaves
craving the silent benediction of snow
beneath an orchestra of tossing trees. .

Steep hillsides buried deep in fallen leaves,
strange shadows turning in an endless dance
beneath an orchestra of tossing trees,
and here, on the window ledge, his books all stacked.

Strange shadows turning in an endless dance
against my walls, moon-paled to silver gray,
and here, on the window ledge, his books all stacked
dreaming the touch of his long, brown hands.

Against my walls, moon-paled to silver gray,
my shadow waltzes in a flannel gown,
dreaming the touch of his long, brown hands
as clocks strike winter in the hall.

My shadow waltzes in a flannel gown,
and I’m a silhouette behind a frosted windowpane
as clocks strike winter in the hall.
Outside, a scarf of light around a throat of moon.

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