A Single Moth
In the sifting snow geese huddle
along the banks of the frozen lake,
heads tucked under pewter wings.
In the trees, a drowse of fluffed crows
in the blur of soft white air.
Those in dens, dark snouts curled,
adrift, somnolent,
ink the snow
with a smidgen of breath.
Winter’s door is closed.
But under it a faint light,
like a sundog, the moon’s round face,
or the single moth
released by the snow one February day.
Susie James is by education a classical pianist. Her poetry has been published in journals and magazines
including The MacGuffin, Lyrical Iowa, Sierra Magazine and in several anthologies including Poetry for
Ukraine. James won the Blue Light Book Award for 2007 from Blue Light Press, and her first book of
poems, Under a Prairie Moon was published in 2008.
In the sifting snow geese huddle
along the banks of the frozen lake,
heads tucked under pewter wings.
In the trees, a drowse of fluffed crows
in the blur of soft white air.
Those in dens, dark snouts curled,
adrift, somnolent,
ink the snow
with a smidgen of breath.
Winter’s door is closed.
But under it a faint light,
like a sundog, the moon’s round face,
or the single moth
released by the snow one February day.
Susie James is by education a classical pianist. Her poetry has been published in journals and magazines
including The MacGuffin, Lyrical Iowa, Sierra Magazine and in several anthologies including Poetry for
Ukraine. James won the Blue Light Book Award for 2007 from Blue Light Press, and her first book of
poems, Under a Prairie Moon was published in 2008.