Buck Moon

What fine manner of gold is this
that treats my midnight eye
as delicately as the kiss
so hoped for in a sigh?  
 
It's the waxing moon of fading June
etched in every lover's brain
much more than some erotic tune  
of hardcore sex refrain.  
 
Too true it is that setting moons
might be thought too cliché
inviting countless rude lampoons  
true lovers won't obey...
 
for crops of love will be best made,
not in the summer sun,
but in the midnight moonbeam shade
where proper love is done!