I watched the full moon set behind a hill:
Its circle lightly rested on the crest,
Then dipped its disc beneath the brown earth’s brow
And swiftly slipped away to take its rest.
The sun arose and roused himself and shook
A shower of sudden light, a blinding spray
Of fresh-cut morning thunder from his mane;
Hillsides flared green and yellow fingers lay
Across their velvet flanks, and ran in streams
Of gold and golden green, uphill, against
All natural law, until they touched the peaks
And leaped across the greening fields unfenced.
The mustard and the lupine jumped for joy
In the muster of the light. A blackbird chimed
A silver note from each black, barren tree
And chortled as the sun began to climb.