Clair de Lune

The stones are made of some unknown substance,
white and translucent. I'm lifting them
up from where they're piled and carrying them

across the dewy grass. Carefully, I'm building
a kind of shelter. I watch the walls pile up
on all four sides. I leave a small entrance

and climbing through I listen to the silence
all around. Looking up, I notice
there's no roof. But, no matter, the full moon

has risen and slowly slid across the sky
to fill the space above my head completely.