Late half moon rising

Climbs the horizon

Dark in the early hours

Like a cold ragged sun

Cracked and fissured

Through still bare trees

Hangs like a lantern

A light in another’s window

A beacon of shared insomnia

Slips slowly through a lattice of branches

The movement of its own orbit

Marking these sleepless hours

As degrees on the ecliptic

Until it slips away

Into a blanket of cloud cover

And a dull day

shuffles in on rain