As a little girl, reading had become my secret thrill. I’d read well past bedtime, even resorting to a flashlight under my blankets- until mum caught me, that is.
My favourite stories were about witches flying on their brooms silhouetted against the moon on clear nights. Anytime the moon came out I’d stand in our courtyard and peer at her face, trying to make out a tell-tale figure with a pointy hat, on a broom-stick. Until mum chased me to bed, that is.

Across winter’s moon
her face shines at passers-by
tides return home

Β©Vivian Zems

For dVerse Poets, Victoria invites us to enjoy the magic of our winter moon.

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