The Unknown Moon

Here the moon trembles afloat, everything above, jinking, still, light in bruised blending color, dipped inhaling while I know, under endless shimmering clouds. What I meant to suggest
relies upon these leaping goats, where our evening sat beside. They creak in fading at half-way tilting while wanderers pass quiet, into the gale at knowing distance; so, then up, some plummet back— its reflect, collected through strays.

Each thought amidst shifting smears it is strange to think you lingering. The night leads onward echo
through rays at brush as they embrace.

Would beyond have less not too reflected light, what would earth reflect? A series crisscrossed each wave of dusk, held from great distance, shadowed strokes unwrap before me; tell me guide—be unbroken, intimately traced.

• Marianne Moore