Fingernail Moon

I'm going to try a minor little change in layout here and see how it works.  Since my very first blog post several years ago, I've always included a graphic at the top, and it's always been at the left.  Trouble is, sometimes that sort of layout gets in the way of poems and skews their look, requiring me to put an opening blurb (yes, like this one) to space the starting point of my verse far enough down to look right.  I'm going to try putting them at the upper right for a change and see how that goes.  Pretty bold of me, no?

I was inspired on the way to work yesterday morning after scraping the frost off my windshield in the cold, blue light of the moon.

Fingernail Moon
Rick Williams

A crescent moon shone down upon
the frosty countryside.
It bathed the fields in ghostly white,
throwing shadows far and wide.

The air was still; no breezes blew;
There was no trace of sound.
The only noises that were heard:
My footsteps on the ground.

A fine, light frost on everything
was bathed in a bluish glow.
The lunar light lit everything
and sparkled like new snow.

Somewhere out there creatures lived
but nothing moved or stirred.
The cold night sky held naught but moon;
no insect, bat, or bird.

It looked like a torn off fingernail
but its brightness would belie
the fact that it was not complete
and but a sliver in the sky.