Alphabet of Days (6)

6.

Full moon over an ache
of February snow – 6 am –
My hand on the car door
is stiff, white-knuckled
The engine groans in trees
a sorrow the birds or
wind can never know
Wiper blades scrape thin
a peep hole Morning Edition
the latest from the front
And a blue-dark gives way
to holy swells of salt-sky
on the highway’s long
southern sweep into day