So they told each other under the moon
One evening when the smell of leaf mould
And the beginnings of roses and potatoes
Came on a wind.
Late in the hours of that evening
They looked long at the moon and called it
A silver button, a copper coin, a bronze wafer.
A plaque of gold, a vanished diadem,
A brass hat dripping from deep waters.
"People like us,
We own the moon."