It reads like a lullaby: Ted Hughes

14 Dec
A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket-
And you listening.
 
A spider’s web, tense for the dew’s touch.
A pail lifted, still and brimming-mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.
Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm
wreaths of breath-
A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.

‘Moon!’ you cry suddenly ‘Moon! Moon!’

The  moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.

– Ted Hughes The Full Moon and Little Frieda (1960)

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