The moon crawls over my windshield, a bored insect.
Reflection of a reflection of light
on the grim and circling stone.
The world does not share my sense of time:
In a vehicle parked off the road, going nowhere
I sense no motion at all in this luminous bug
on the curved glass. Doesn’t it know
I don’t have all night to be moved?
Translations from the English 
Oh, so good!
Thank you!
Excellent write!
Thanks!
Welcome, Jeff
Delightful! That last line sure made me smile!
Thanks!