Billy Collins (22 March 1941 - / New York City)
Tonight the moon is a cracker,
with a bite out of it
floating in the night,
and in a week or so
according to the calendar
it will probably look
like a silver football,
and nine, maybe ten days ago
it reminded me of a thin bright claw.
But eventually --
by the end of the month,
I reckon --
it will waste away
nothing but stars in the sky,
and I will have a few nights
a little time to rest my jittery pen.
Billy Collins's Other Poems
- Another Reason Why I Don't Keep A Gun In...
- By A Swimming Pool Outside Syracusa
- Candle Hat
- Child Development
- Dear Reader
- Fishing On The Susquehanna In July
- For Bartleby The Scrivener
- I Ask You
- I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To A...
- I Go Back To The House For A Book
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.