Darling clouds; Billowing puffs of startled air. Pale, gossamer quilt covers, Basking in the autumn sun. She tears right through, Twisting me up from tranquility. Resonating Cries of thunder For to drive fierce Diana away. Her clever hands, Wrought from the hunt, Manipulate the clear sky to night. The moon rises to rest, A virgin suspended above the shadowed forest. All rhyme is too quickly abandoned, For we are left to wither, Here upon this dry patch of earth.