Poetry Appearing in Poetry In Motion® Portland

The Moon Through the Trees (excerpt)

Robert McDowell

It's the owl's eyes burning down from the barn's cupola,
It's the moon through the trees spreading itself
On the red fox emerging from the midnight thickets.

It's the sight of the dead, the mural
Of your past, the teasing glimpse
Of what comes when you are no one.


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"The Moon Through the Trees" (excerpt) from On Foot, in Flames. Copyright © 2002 by Robert McDowell. Reprinted with the permission of University of Pittsburgh Press.

 

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