The Savagery of Moonbeams

The silver glow of evening's mother,

beauty in a spectral form,

bathing now this land of darkness

in the brilliant sacred starkness

and dissecting nature's light

to puzzle-pieces of the night.

Monochrome nocturnal,

Diana's blessed realm eternal,

ripped by moonbeam arrows bright,

to bleed until the morning light,

when Apollo's blood commands

the nourishment of all his lands

with Iris's palette in his hand,

and nature stands renewed.