A silver cornucopia
drenched
in that bewitching hour
of night.

A sliver of glory
to some who dream
of such things.

At noon, the moon has
never looked
so satirical
or so bright.

Mercurial,
it waxes and wanes
to its own

luminosity,
to its own petal notions
of darkness
and light.

Deborah H. Doolittle calls North Carolina home. A Pushcart Prize nominee, she is the author of Floribunda and three chapbooks. Some of her poems have appeared in Cloudbank, Comstock Review, Kakalak, Plant-Human Quarterly, Slant, The Stand, and in audio format on The Writer’s Almanac. Editor of Brillig,