Inspired by the poem by Emily Dickinson,

I watched the Moon around the House

Until upon a Pane—

She stopped—a Traveller’s privilege—for Rest—

And there upon

I gazed—as at a stranger—

The Lady in the Town

Doth think no incivility

To lift her Glass—upon—

But never Stranger justified

The Curiosity

Like Mine—for not a Foot—nor Hand—

Nor Formula—had she—

But like a Head—a Guillotine

Slid carelessly away—

Did independent, Amber—

Sustain her in the sky—

Or like a Stemless Flower—

Upheld in rolling Air

By finer Gravitations—

Than bind Philosopher—

No Hunger—had she—nor an Inn—

Her Toilette—to suffice—

Nor Avocation—nor Concern

For little Mysteries

As harass us—like Life—and Death—

And Afterwards—or Nay—

But seemed engrossed to Absolute—

With shining—and the Sky—

The privilege to scrutinize

Was scarce upon my Eyes

When, with a Silver practise—

She vaulted out of Gaze—

And next—I met her on a Cloud—

Myself too far below

To follow her superior Road—

Or its advantage—Blue—

A1 art print, 59.4 x 84.1 cm