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This moment

It’s all silent

But for the wind coming in

And I’m looking back over the bed top

And opening the window just a little bit

And the chimney stack is in silhouette and

The moon bulb

A half face

A two-thirds without clear end

Is glowing brighter than I can see

And there’s nothing else

Except for the blue night

And the ring of brightness on the window pane

Where spots of muck can be seen in white brilliance

And it’s all still and nighty nighty