Autumnal Musings by George Freek

A POEM ON THE NEW MOON

Fall is as cold as the moon.
Fierce clouds tell me
snow is coming.
Monks, seeking comfort,
mutter incantations
in their self-absorbed occupations,
but in their trance,
they ignore the signs
in the sky. I watch the moon
as it dies.
Where does heaven lie?
I stare at that dimensionless sky.
If life is a mistake,
to whom should we apologise?

George Freek’s poetry has recently appeared in The Ottawa Arts Review, Acumen, The Lake, The Whimsical Poet, Triggerfish and Torrid Literature.

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