Orion hangs above the treetops

in the bitter, night air.

Above the stillness of these empty spaces,

the quiet of these orderly divisions,

sets apart each of the lives

within every single dwelling.

And looking down upon it all

unnoticed,

only a ghostly silver ring

almost invisible,

frozen not only with the winter wind

but from the indifference

stares down the new moon,

shivering in the sky

chasing the stars

across the heavens.

The icy, insulated, separate spaces

sit,

under Orion

under the new moon.

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