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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 4, December 2015

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Joy McCall
Norwich, Norfolk, England


the moon, circling

for Jonathan

pale moonlight
fills my room
later now
it lights on the small tree
outside my window

There's a tawny owl calling somewhere in the tall trees beyond the garden; now and then the yipping of the foxes; the midnight train trundles by, the last train of the night, going to the coast. I cannot bear to close the curtains or shut the window; the waning moon is shining in. I hear the wind in the trees, the foxes, the owls, and the night, sighing and settling.

My eyes are closing. Dreams will come, soon.

he measures
the passage of the moon
as it circles
the width of his two hands
outstretched to the night sky

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