Moonlight
Moon’s a farrier affixing
Shoes to the underside of
Leaves, steel-bright, twirling
On shafts, fastened by wind,
Some steal away running
Barefoot towards gardens
And those that remain turn
And glisten, horse-shake
In mid-air, as if they were
Unharnessed and about to
Traverse and nick the upper
Boughs on their way towards
Heaven. Shadows cover the
Lower branches like a leather
Apron and stone walls and
Fields appear littered with
Discarded instruments of
Brightened metal, some
Half hidden by waves of
Uncombed grass flowing
Past the tilted teeth of fence-
Posts towards lower ground
Where they flicker before
Their silent pour into an
Open wound of water
A life-long resident of Connecticut, John Muro is a graduate of Trinity College, Wesleyan University, and the University of Connecticut. His first volume of poems, In the Lilac Hour, was published last fall by Antrim House and is available on Amazon. John’s poems have been published or are forthcoming in numerous literary journals, including Moria, Sheepshead, Euphony, River Heron, Clementine Unbound, Third Wednesday and The French Literary Review.
