Nuit Blanche by John Muro

Late fall and near the edge of sleep

I take in, from behind a latticed

Window, a courtyard covered with

The unclutched gold of fallen leaves

And the drift of steam entwined with

Frosted lamp-light; the last grapes,

Now odorless, darken in withering

Skin and dusk has descended like

Fate beyond a fountain puddled

To stillness and into a riverbed

Of glittery stones that once carried,

In fluid splendor, schools of low-

Lying clouds and leaf-bright boughs.

Loitering in day’s damp after-math,

Swallows stumble from their nests,

As winter accelerates without scent

Or sound leaving sight alone to

Extract something of meaning from

This brooding emptiness where all

Light’s nearly lost and the best one

Can hope for is to become wedded

To wondering and dream of an early

Night-fall brightened by snow.

---

A life-long resident of Connecticut, John is a graduate of Trinity College, Wesleyan University and the University of Connecticut. His professional career has been dedicated to environmental stewardship and conservation. His first volume of poems, In the Lilac Hour, was published last fall by Antrim House and it is available on Amazon. John’s poems have been published or are forthcoming in Moria, Euphony, Clementine Unbound, Third Wednesday, River Heron, Trouvaille Review, Freshwater and several other literary journals.