Rapture

I passed by the sunset with its sclarlet silhouette
wasting the day's last light on the barren earth before me,
springing alive against the winter's sinking snow
it caught my eye in a sparkling reflection.

On the horizon was the cold pale moon
and I had forgotten the salty warmth of the equinox's air.
There it glared!
Solitude, indirect, a soothing yellow light,
a full circle of memory for the silent starry night.
Did you rock the Earth to sleep a billion years or more,
and surge the silver ripples to a lonesome sandy shore?
Did your rays cut through the twilight atmosphere,
and stand an eternity of the sun's savage sear?

Oh, it doesn't matter how many times the seasons change,
I'll stand in rapture at the moon.