The Man in the Moon
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He used to frighten me in the nights of my childhood,
the wide adult face, enormous, stern, aloft.
I could not imagine such loneliness, such coldness.
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But tonight as I drive home over these hilly roads
I see him sinking behind strands of winter trees
and rising again to show his familiar face.
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And when he comes into full view over open fields
he looks like a young man who has fallen in love
with the dark earth,
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a pale bachelor, well-groomed and full of melancholy,
his round mouth open
as if he had just broken into song.
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