Branches Won’t Stop Pointing at The Moon

A dizain

Those branches won’t stop pointing at the moon. The waxing crescent, there, beyond the gate. Though cold and wintry twilights end too soon reflected sunlight does illuminate as cold dark echos do reverberate. These branches, pointing, prodding, scraping, want whatever pours out melting. Let it haunt. They shout. Those twiggy little fingers twist. Whose fault lies here? The moon begins to taunt. A whipping wind behooves me to resist.

©️William J Spirdione 2024

This poem is a Dizain, a ten line single stanza poem, ten syllables per line, the form originating in 15th century France, written with the rhyme scheme, ababbccdcd.