Moonlight blank newsprint across the lawn,
Three-quarters moon, give or take,
empty notebook, no wind.
When it’s over it’s over,
Cloud crossing moon, half-clear sky, then
Well, that’s a couple of miles down the road,
he said to himself,
Watching the moonlight lacquer and mat.
Surely a mile and then some,
Watching the clouds come and the clouds go.
Citronella against the tiny ones, the biters,
Sky pewter-colored and suddenly indistinct now—
Sweet smell of citronella,
beautiful, endless youth.
The book of moonlight has two pages and this one’s the first one.
Foresake me not utterly,
and make me marvelous in your eyes.
—Charles Wright, from Bye-And-Bye: Selected Late Poems