lunar phases

It looked like Mars
as I began by drive home
this evening:
orange and violent,
gawking at me
with blood and petulance.

It changed as I
neared home:
full and ripe,
it smelled of harvest
and work that lies ahead.

As dark approached,
it changed still:
warming to a soft,
100-watt glow.
I looked up to locate some stars,
but its light washed the sky
clean.

Cold drew closer,
as the night crawled inside me.
This is no werewolf moon;
no curs,
no mongrels
will howl tonight.
It is bright and friendly,
lighting Zoe's chocolate fur,
as she smells the air
under a star-speckled sky.

in her face

The echoing kiss,
The lover's restless summer,
The awakened song,
The night-bird's hour,
are all whispered
in her
face.

in the darkness

Yesterday, I wished
through my subconscious
finding a dream
forgotten,
destined
in the darkness.