Waiting for Moonrise Over the Watchman

By dawn the algorithms will have given
Their automatic birthday greetings
And your inbox will overflow. You can't

Measure time more directly because
Measurement itself is time, every act
Of measuring being an extension of time.

The undersides of the clouds above
The black cliffs that surround you
Glow and fade as they pass over the invisible

Moon while you wait, alone in your courtyard
Until, finally, a gimlet eye, stabbing white,
Fixes you from the mountaintop, a spear

Of reflection, a single point worth watching
Because the sheer edge of the mountain allows
Your slow eyes to see the motion of the full moonrise.