Loon

Moon risen, full, fish-colored
High in the sea of stars over
Livingston Montana.
The numb night echoes.

Tires squeal down Lagoon Way.
And then quiet.

The world spinning, I walk on...

Inside the bars.
Nattering women, chatting men.
Couples silent.
Clack of billiard balls.
Juke box jump.

I stroll out and on under a
Trout-belly moon, clean and white.
Slick moon of winter darkness.

Memory of the January moon of
My Two Medicine River,
The cottonwood trees exploding moon,
Trapped sap freezing, expanding, escaping,
Piercing
Winter’s silence.

I pine for a blue moon,
A quiet moon

West of remembrance
Under which the loon sings
Unseen on troubled water.
A bird I miss.