zoey sets her caravan, as is her wont,

so that the morning light
will come through her bedroom window,

though at this time of year she will be

long since out of that cozy bed come sunrise.

in time, with the thaw, which, in the scheme of things

isn't that far off, a matter of months,

the first light of day will wake her.

for now, the curtainless east-facing window

will reveal the passing moon

in all its glorious and noble phases; or,

as on a night like this, perhaps nothing will be revealed,

for the clouds are thick, the moon is coy, snow is falling,

and some things are best kept to oneself.