Full Moon

I.

A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket —
And you listening.
A spider’s web, tense for the dew’s touch,
A pail lifted still and brimming — mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.
Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm wreaths of breath —
A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.
Moon, you cry suddenly, moon, moon!
The moon has stepped back, like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.

II.

The cows submerge.
The moon has opened you wide and bright like a pond.
The moon lifts you off the grass —
A cat’s cradle of spider’s web, where the stars are trembling into place.
The brimming moon looks through you and you cannot move.
Any minute
A bat will fly out of a cat’s ear.