The loneliest moon:
A moon to feed thy eyes,
Dwells thus in raven stares;
Hanging about, outside... a tree,
Never to last, but so to speak, succomb,
White heavy snow on eyebrows of a raven
That flows from edges of white path
And time so old...
As to begin another day of endless cold
And noise as much as naked smoke:
Grey, heavy lifting up in clouds
Of dark, benighted stare,
To light the lonely moon,
Forevermore...