poem

 New Moon

My route to the hospital

Takes me east to west.

Usually daylight is just cresting.

I see it in the rearview mirror gaining—

An angry low wall

Of hard ochre and bloodshot orange

Getting closer and closer each mile

But I give it a little gas

And it never catches up.

Coming home I see the sunset tailing me

But I’m going too fast, I guess,

Distracted, anxious to get home,

The fading light behind me

Dimming smaller and smaller 

Until we’re all engulfed 

In the same darkness

Shared by the new moon.

I work too much

And can’t remember if 

It’s waxing or waning.

12/27/25