Thursday, November 16, 2017


I like to stand in winter darkness 
among my woodland trees,
to look into the winter skies
and wish I could be transported upward, 
to walk among the stars.

Denuded of their leaves, 
trimmed and pruned and starkly 
sculptured by the winter winds, 
the trees around me stand with arms upraised, 
in tribute to the same skies I admire.

In the cold of long, dark winter nights, 
the stars do seem to grow, 
moving ever closer to me,
inviting me to touch them one-by-one 
with my own hands.

Yet I stand stricken into quiet stillness,
awed by an eternal miracle;
one among the many miracles 
that I, mere human, 
have the privilege to witness, 
as I walk God's earth.. 

          ---Rose Moore, Nov. 2017

Tuesday, November 14, 2017

Sunday, November 12, 2017


Mick and me at 4:30 a.m., Sunday morning... I wonder how 27 degrees can feel so mild...

Over our heads the sky is wrapped in soft strips of star-sequinned cloud, like the biblical Salome's seven veils; pinned with a slender moon crescent...

Bare trees stand tall in the moonlight; there is no breeze at all; and no sound...

Mick walks quiet beside me, taking his time...

It seems the day, when it rises, might be a fine one.