blue razor shadows tangle
bare bones of trees
against soft shoulders of hills
angled from behind
dark translucence buried in new snow
Eyes exposed to silver bright,
make seamless memory
From sigh of wind, smell of cold
And then, a motion, somewhere, movement–
Like the flicker of a silent movie
And again. Not movement sudden
Faintly at the edge of vision
subtle, massive and unnamed.
With lunacy and light
The valley fills, empties as
dark waves surge past, and another–
An armada–cloudships propelled by moonbeams.
White light and blue, they came
In liquid shadows shades of gray
the size of meadows surging
from behind us — under our feet
Poured into creeks and quickly away
Rising without effort under snow under oaks
To the top of the ridge and gone.
The world flashed from life to death
From shadow of cloud to light of the Unfamiliar
And I am terrified and I am made whole–
a frail vapor so close to heaven
So In love with this pulsing world.
Very rare in my experience, a night with snow on the ground, a half moon or more, and scattered clouds blowing shadows across the nightscape of our pasture. I wrote this description above in 2003 and saw the exact same thing, had the same wonderful terror all over again, last night.