Hilda Morley

H
Hilda Morley
And I in My Bed Again
Last night
tossed in
my bed
the sound of the rain turned me
around,
a leaf
in a dried gully
from side to
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Hanukkah
This season for us, the Jews—
a season of candles,
one more
on the seven-branched candlestick for
the seven days of the week,
but let it be seven
in the sense of luck in dice,
seven of the stars in
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Winter Solstice
A cold night crosses
our path
The world appears
very large, very
round now extending
far as the moon does
It is from
the moon this cold travels
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That Bright Grey Eye
The grey sky, lighter & darker
greys,
lights between & delicate
lavenders also
blue-greys in smaller strokes,
& swashes
of mauve-grey on the Hudson—
openings
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