Smalt Skies/Blue Moon

beneath smalt skies of June
hangs there a pale-blue moon
awaits the night
without sun’s light---
sans cloaking shawl
or filt’ring pall---
somewhere ‘bove Rangoon …
or p’raps o’erlooking somewhat
a tamed Vermont.
moon’s patience dimmed,
her silence mute and gaunt---
to gnostic eye,
her face light-limned---
she bides her time within
accounting for her sin
till dimps has pulled
his holey curtain then,
when she not longer waits
for night to fall.