Moody Night by Robb Monn

And the night is moody still with all it's changings

The crisp vibrant leaves, serrated blades alike

With green and imperfections,

Stop their pushing outwards to contemplate

Silhouettes vs. a starry sky, to mutter restless

And shake out the depth of the wind, hearing

Their brothers down the breeze call with

The coming movement -- rustling convections,

Long fingers of dark swaying up to the absent sun,

The close globe of the moon.

The night is moody still.