An Almond Moon

An almond moon is in the sky.
Down here, a certain weariness pervades;
a sadness of the soul that sits in judgment on
a day it is good to just be past.
It left a quotient of despair,
arrived at by division of the world
into myself and all the rest.
What is that cruel divisor,
and whose the hand that set the sum?
Is it a subtle test by an examiner
to check my understanding?
If true, I'll take the failing grade
in trade for sleep--and that, above,
small benediction whose impassive face
is in this tedious circumstance
an unexpected, insufficient, but
still welcome grace.

April 12 2010