The Moon's not right,
'Tis short and thin,
Too cool, too lean,
I do not mean
I wouldn't want
To rectify the light,
It's just that light's
Too black to make shadows
In the night.
The moment's mad,
It's off to worry 'bout
The quickly changing earth.
'Tis difficult to see
A richness or delight
Of warmer loves in flight,
This night is dim
And with exotic terms,
Neurotic and unkempt;
It's fall again,
The sky is strange;
The light has nearly drained,
The beach, the sea,
The casual retreats
Now covered with debris.
City people sleep
Beneath thicker blankets,
Cuddled, safe, and deep.