Poet At the Window

So there you are then The full yellow moon That I love to watch Rising above my neighbours And torching the Ngong hills The solitary cloudlet That seems to be preceding you Is but a junior messenger Sent by the wary stars To warn you of their displeasure At your rendering their presence All but inconsequential Already near here The mist is gathering And passing by me As though puffed To a destination inconue And while I espied all that Other clouds of a darker hue Have gathered around the cloudlet And formed a scary curtain Ahead of your receding brilliance Shielding me from view Engulfing your very self And leaving me to journey the night alone Or to seek the duller brilliance Of the distant Northern Star But wait, I smell something Like burning … O my burning dinner!