The winter moon
is sharp against the sky
glistening silver
cold and distant
no comfort here tonight
her golden summer sister
banished
her beautiful face
turned towards the dark
no thoughts of love
no mystery
no nightingale in song
the night seems thin
and there is a chilling wind
the stars seem closer
as if in company
they might find warmth
or perhaps sanctuary
from the harsh gaze
of the haughty, frigid queen
frozen in quiet perfection
against the bleak winter night
© Ann Bagnall
Annie's Poetry 