Moonmadness

I looked outside and found the harvest moon
Was on the grass. It clung to all the leaves;
It wrapped the branches in a bright cocoon
And played upon the stubble and the sheaves

Of field beyond the fence. And then the gate
Swung on its hinges though it made no sound –
In swept a surge of spirits that made straight
For the far greensward and I watched, spellbound,

As they took places, curtsied, and then danced
Like shafts of moonlight gliding through the night.
They minuetted graciously, entranced
And their translucence made them seem as bright

As anything the moonlight touched – I stood
Transfixed in wonder, watching as their rounds
Grew ever faster, wishing that I could
Be like them, lithe and supple, without bounds

And dared not stir for fear they’d dart away
But kept my wide-eyed vigil till the last.
The never stopped – but when the night grew grey
They slowly, slowly came to spin less fast.

The tired ghosts kept dancing through the dawn
Only to vanish in the morning sun.
I found some small white flowers on the lawn
That must have grown there after they’d begun –

Turned into substance half the spell remained
As day commenced beneath a sky of blue,
It’s sleepy silence strengthened by a faint
And far-off laughter – just as if they knew.