Poems by Trey Moody are presented. "A Weather." First Line: Snow falls thick like waxed shards of paper, white collecting flat over; Last Line: bite, I palm a cold grape-the hand asks difficult questions. "A Weather." First Line: Said sand molds shape, said a statue is a market of time-that crop, once; Last Line: new year. "A Weather." First Line: Complex countertops feed heat: reflect touch's talk, which hearkens back; Last Line: with time, however hummingbirds interpret ten.