Philip Larkin describes the full moon so perfectly: "Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!" However, I think his observations apply just as well to the waning fingernail crescent that I saw early this morning when I was awakened by the naughty cats:
High and preposterous and separate—
Lozenge of love! Medallion of art!
O wolves of memory! Immensements! No,
One shivers slightly, looking up there.
The hardness and the brightness and the plain
Far-reaching singleness of that wide stare
Is a reminder of the strength and pain
Of being young; that it can’t come again,
But is for others undiminished somewhere.
from the poem "Sad Steps"
Looking up at the Sky