It's Still Life

Draining Dark

I recall
a broad moon spiked high
on treetop forks,
a weave of breezes
moving the day’s heat
in chattering stops.
Moon shadows soaking
leaves and roots, and
all winter we waited
for its radiant silk,
a milky moon that
drained dark from night.

For dVerse’s Quadrille #75, include the word “Spike”, and Twiglet #117 “a broad bright moon”