Cold Moon on the rise

Today, I heard a story on the radio that said December’s “Cold Moon” was coming, signaling winter’s arrival.  The story reminded me of May Sarton’s poem “December Moon.”  Sarton was born Elinore Marie Sarton in Belgium in 1912.  She and her family moved to England at the outset of WWI and then on to Boston in 1915.  She not only became a deeply engrained New Englander but also one of America’s greatest and most prolific poets, writing as “May,” the month of her birth.

 

So, on this Black Friday weekend as we leave Thanksgiving and autumn behind, spiraling toward our first “winter month,” here Sarton’s poem,

 

December Moon

Before going to bed
After a fall of snow
I look out on the field
Shining there in the moonlight
So calm, untouched and white
Snow silence fills my head
After I leave the window.

Hours later near dawn
When I look down again
The whole landscape has changed
The perfect surface gone
Criss-crossed and written on
Where the wild creatures ranged
While the moon rose and shone.

Why did my dog not bark?
Why did I hear no sound
There on the snow-locked ground
In the tumultuous dark?

How much can come, how much can go
When the December moon is bright,
What worlds of play we'll never know
Sleeping away the cold white night
After a fall of snow.