Carrboro Moon

By Melody Miller

The white Christmas lights still hang
in the granddaddy tree outside of the trail shop.
We see our breaths in the air and stop, 
scurrying like mice
towards our vehicle home.
Winter beech leaves shiver like rice-paper cut-outs
against the Carrboro moon.
We say nothing, just nod to the other, and smile,
our memories bound to this mill town.
Our green horizon with off with zephyrs,
still close, as the beech's rustling: 
two grasshopper legs on a summer’s night
or moon lanterns on the Chinese new year.

Melody Miller is a free-thinking southern transplant, with a love for all things creative, especially writing and anything to do with language. In her free time, she can be found cooking up healthy meals, living a "green lifestyle" and scheming how to live the happiest life.