Sky Signs

Four short weeks ago, the western sky,
was slashed late evening by a blazing scimitar,
as the new moon held forth so bright on high,
curved invitingly toward a twinkling star.

Tonight, she coolly turns her haughty back;
the evening star hangs shyly up in space.
Is the changing season's interest the lack,
before the dawn obscures her pale arched face?

The trip across the sky again nearly unseen,
crossing the heights as slyly as a fox,
bidding her farewell with pale dawn's sheen.
Next journey, she will have passed the equinox.