A late winter short poem

Sometimes I’d like to write
about the way the full moon
arises as thin white stripes
behind the mackerel sky that announces rain,
on a cold january day, at dusk.
But I think something would be lost
along the way.
So instead I’ll simply say:
search for the full moon
arising as thin white stripes
behind the mackerel sky that announces rain,
on a cold january day, at dusk.