Mr. Moon

A sullen fortress

Stands a beautiful monarch

There shines a white orb.

He watches over

The little peasant people

With droopy eyelids

When kids are afraid

He sings the song of slumber

And put them to bed

Foolish folks carol

The man on the moon; and yet

He sways along too

Neither wise nor fool

Nor too proud or too descent –

That's Mr. Moon!

I conjured up this haiku when I was still in bed, staring at the night sky.