Moon of frosty November night, too soon
Have you risen to cool ardor’s eyes. You
Reflect heat’s light as if to lampoon
The futileness of brief season’s debut.

Frost Moon of November’s night design, you
Float on radiance not your own. Too soon
Your chill rays benumb my heart’s summer dews.
Cold Moon, I feel it is I that you prune.

November moon your seasoned flight too soon
Turns to loss of blooming sight. I see you
Frost my fingertips with iciness, strewn
Without debt, coloring my rainbows blue.

Frost Moon you reflect my emptiness, you
Fall, from the skies of my eyes, much too soon...

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 11/15/05