The Moon

The Moon

29 november 1982

jpmelville

On a broad hillside covered smoothly with snow

Strewn myriads of her diamonds sparkled before open night.

Her deep woods by, quiet, occasionally coldly crackling

Through the sharp clarity of her lucid voice, open night.

She spoke without words in wild night.

I drew her breath pure in wild night.

With awe I received her fair touch in wild night.

Cold to my skin, in wild night.

Washed in the light of her pale beauty’s grace,

Alone in heavy boots and long woolen coat

I and the hills about me stood, still,

Her calling through the silence, night,

To hers sheening, mine reddened by frost I lifted my face,

Heart pounding blood, eyes moist with warm tears, in silence,

Night.

What words spoken she shares at night

When I stand alone in her wilds

Others before me have known

But I am not jealous

For I have understood

In silence

Night.