Pale Moon

Noise is inevitably inaudible

over the silence

lingering over the time

and trees, bare with teeth,

not leaves.

The sky buries depth

beneath a dangling cloud astray,

showing me that black

is the depth

and the sky

the height

making the pale moon

hide away his bravado.

So forever he will watch

one drooping lid

changing every now and again.

White

appears dullest when my pail is full

but yellow is not red

and I don't feel anymore

amorous...