She passes, always, east to west,
in slow traverse,
gliding on the glimmered night air
First wax, then wane, tricks of a light
and shadow curse,
slowly seen, then slowly never there.
Night to night, and month to month,
she pulls at us
like tides, come rolling from the deep
Connects us to ourselves above
the land’s abyss
in waking moments, and across our sleep.
Look up into the dark-song night
and she looks down,
all hanging, falling, silver dreams
In summer’s skin, and autumn’s cloak,
and winter’s crown
our bright moon, she sails on the beams
