The Moon at Dawn
The dark morning roads are
Renewed each morning with frost.
Slick, done with the night;
Each reminds me to look up
At the last glimpse of the moon
Draped across the dawn,
Held in some way stranger than night moons,
Waking the tidal morn
At the crest of mountains.
Seen from all angles of the earth -
It is only at dawn,
When its power bleeds,
And our minds sleep to waken.
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