The Quinnipiac is one of several tidal rivers that empty into Long Island Sound through Connecticut, whose name is derived from the Algonquian and means “land of the great tidal river.”
Wolf Moon on the Quinnipiac
the moon of cold bears down
hard upon us now, veiled in ice
crystal clouds, high and thin
above the crackling earth
and the Veil itself is thin
tonight and brittle as the rimy
shelf that marks the high
water line when the tide
has drawn its briny lifeblood
seaward, cold but not so cold
as we whose souls rise
steaming into the darkness
The Daily Compost 
I esp like the last 3 lines. Brr
I kind of imagined someone freezing to death in those last lines. Clearly I was inspired by more than the moon on this one. Stay warm, my friend!
Fabulous. “whose souls rise steaming into darkness” Makes the whole poem.
Thank you! I fiddled with those last two lines quite a bit. I’m glad to hear it was worth it.
Love that briny lifeblood!
Oh, good! I was a little worried that just sounded weird. Thank you for letting me know you liked it. 🙂