A fast-coming Spring,
With a full yellow moon falling in the west.
“Party ending or still going?”
I yell at six men in the moon-lit yard.
“Not sure, one way or the other,”
A tall man in the middle of the parked cars and trucks says.
An hour later, the moon has dropped,
The men have driven off,
And two black cats nuzzle in the middle of an empty street.
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, late January 2013