Night-Touch

I think I will let this poem stand on its own, as I prefer to let it form its own world in the mind of the reader.

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Night-Touch

So far below the crying of the moon,
Autumnal, plaintive, for the passing year
That's gone beyond the ken of moon or stars,
I feel beneath my feet the skin of night
Stretched taut upon the mighty bones of earth,
Where summer's relicts gild the weary ground
And softly echo weeping that too soon
The days are dying; but behind their tears
The skin of night is sweet, her touch unmarred
By errant time. She only knows the bright
Soft silver that the breath of twilight birthed.
Through falling night I hear her heartbeat’s sound.