Chance Encounter

On separate horizons,
momentarily, this chance encounter
between the sun and moon.

One, ghostly white
and fading, the other, almost blinds
with its red eyed glare.

Two ineffectual bulbs,
unable to combat the bitter cold
that January has brought.

Yet, with snow crystals
festooning every ledge and bough
as temporary sculptures,

on a morning this still,
wreathed in my own breathy halo,
who am I to complain?

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