The Moon

THE MOON

 

The moon escapes the pale water’s rim,

Rises, and the waters jump and run

And trace their steps across the sandy bottom

To the secret place where they began;

And as the creeping moon trims her way

Across the starry sky, the waters stop

Turn around, and run again to play

With the shore.

                        Every water step

Is calculated by the moon’s delight.

Though horns and shadows decorate her face,

Or yellow craters drop their golden light,

Or darkness hides the strangeness of her face,

No one else can hum her lunar tune –

And waters cannot dance without the moon.