Full moon over Mt. Lafayette

You cannot be real
Witches moon,
Brighter and fuller
Than all the clichés
Even as black cloud
Fingers cross your face.

Are you demon spirit,
Staple of horror films,
Prefacing the werewolf’s
Howl and the camera pan
To cauldron and circle
Of chanting crones? Or,

Are you mother Moon,
Goddess of light,
Artemis blessing her
Supplicants as they
Dance naked, dripping
With midnight rain?

Tonight you are my
Moon, rising over white
Mountain peak, silent
As a monk at prayer,
And as stoic. I wait,
In patient vigil, but
You grant no peace.