Poetry in a Wintry Ravine by Carol Louise Moon

Noir poet brings me to this place.

She takes me down deeper into

this ravine, where rocks soak in cold

shadow.  Withered grass blades have

given up hope of damp, now waiting

in non-listening.

Birds don’t come here, preferring

the sunny tops of trees up on the

frosty ridge.

But I am here today, down under

and alone, dark book in hand.

My cool fingers flip the pages,

fearful eyes fixate on dark words.

The cold boulder on which I sit

hides a snake hole. And there,

even deeper underground are

coiled fangs in hibernation,

dreaming of those tiny tender

skittering tidbits of spring.

Carol Louise Moon’s poetry has appeared in many print journals in several states, including Sacramento Voices (X3) and Song of the San Joaquin (X5), also online journals including Peeking Cat Poetry (X10), Poppy Road Review (X4) and the Orchards. She is a monthly contributor to Medusa’s Kitchen for Poetry, and also her photography.