The Man in the Moon He used to frighten me in the nights of childhood, the wide adult face, enormous, stern, aloft. I could not imagine such loneliness, such coldness. But tonight as I drive home over these hilly roads I see him sinking behind stands of winter trees and rising again to show his familiar face. And when he comes into full view over open fields he looks like a young man who has fallen in love with the dark earth, a pale bachelor, well-groomed and full of melancholy, his round mouth open as if he had just broken into song.
