Last night I saw the moon most full,
reflected in the creek--
a gleaming in what was left of the twilight,
as the sky darkened and the moon rose,
higher and higher,
a beaming smile on its face...
yes, the man in the moon smiled on the night.
Later, when the air had cooled
but the land and water remained yet warm
a tulle fog grew on the stream,
tangling in the rushes there,
like a soft river of cloud upon the water,
flowing where the brook flowed,
glowing, because the moon glowed
and leaving me with the hope
that tonight's moon
would be able to weave
the same magic.