First Full Moon

Drifting high

in star-tossed sky,

the first full moon of the year.

Beaming bright

on frigid night,

with polished, glossy veneer.

Painting dark

a great oak’s bark,

creates an ebony spear.

Brushing gray

where shadows lay,

a gloomy, ominous smear.

Lighting snow

to glacial glow,

douses instinctual fear.

Quelling sound

from sky to ground,

deep silence is all I hear.

Dusting peace,

it grants release,

pointless worries disappear.

Bathing earth,

its carefree mirth,

suffuses my soul with cheer.

Gleaming soft,

soaring aloft,

gold-dusted, heavenly sphere.

Looking up,

I raise my cup,

to the first full moon this year.