Moon Hidden, Moon Revealed

Last night,
the moon rose red as cherry
to the north and east.
Even gutted, slightly more than
half full, too bloated for a crescent,
too barren to be complete,
it was a beacon of something
too specific to name.

I sat, for a long time,
watching. I knew it for enchantment,
and knew myself
beguiled.

Tonight, I am waiting, for what,
I'm not sure. The walls are bare,
and there's nothing left but a suitcase
I'll soon carry out of here and be gone with.

The moon is hidden
behind the mist.