is it lunacy

Is it lunacy or just the moon
That greets at the wake of day
And now at evening’s end
Her darkened shred hangs low
Above the edge of noon.

Last eve on journey’s homeward path,
Its cheery guise gave rise to lightened hearts.
Bare trees, their fortress buttress feet, disturbed,
That beneath proud arms looped and strung,
In agony against the orange sphere.
Focus edged on cliffs protected by chain-wire,
The long grass grows through the rust,
The night enveloping the orange sheen,
Out distancing the incandescent light.

Maybe it is only lunacy, my friend,
This spoken truth that rules the night,
No good will come from loving,
My guardian angel watching over,
No war, sleeper have I your friendship?
For I bid you pleasant dreams.