A Moment Between Lyon and Montpellier.

Muted, we watched
as the cheshire cat's teeth morphed
from pearly white,
through plaque yellow,
to blood red.
As the sickle moon descended
into its silent grave
in the horizon.


Written September 2015. My wife and I were traveling  from Lyon to Montpellier, with some rather awkward covoiturage companions. The sickle blood-moon was ominous and haunting in the silent journey, and I penned this as well as I could in the pitch black of the car. 
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