indifferently, illuminating a cloud
which appears as a vague ghost figure
as I try to transport my petty spirit
to the craters as if an Olympian god.
So imperceptibly you move tonight
as I wander in you strange, alluring light.
Moon, so admired by Keats, Shakespeare and Homer
when only birds flew in the darkened sky
but now an aeroplane flickers across,
a precarious tin tube like a falling star
but stars are merely extras in your movie.
You are the queen, a jewel of more worth
than any diamond that shines on this earth.