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.