It is the last snow moon;
the last of its kind.
The last time the light would shine so brightly
that daylight kissed the sky through the darkness
and all the mysteries of the night were laid bare in plain sight.
The waning brings with it the rising of a different season
and the snow moon sleeps again.
In this blue light, I love you more
and no horizon exists to limit our hopes.
I will exhale my ambitions and breath in
the green grass of springtime.
And dream of the snow moon and the
frosty spirits that flow from me
freely toward the stars.