Drifting into Moonrise over Hernandez, NM
After Ansel Adams, October 31, 1941
A clutch of crosses incandescent in the dark light, like words of a single syllable chanted
in the murmurs of bushes and slats, churches, workhouses, trailers, the lone and level
shrubs humming loud and far and away. Fear. Grit. Drift. Woe. Hope.
So much happens above the murmur—the stones in relief against the dark,
the roughened snowbelt, the firm wind towing the mountain shadows from the sky, an
oblique moon shining its minor light.
The moon glow grazes tiny crosses huddled below, standing for those whose grit lit the
way, whose hands dug them home, whose faith reached high,
Draped in borrowed luminescence.
Dr. Mary Adler
Dr. Mary Adler is a professor of English at California State University Channel Islands, where she teaches writing and literature. She has published two books for teachers, most recently Writers at Play: Making the Space for Adolescents to Balance Imagination and Craft (Heinemann, 2009). She is a fellow of the National Writing Projects at UCLA and UCSB.
The Ekphrastic Review
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