tu fu style

A thin moon smiles, light recedes beyond its post;
the sun is dead, pink and yellow runs its blood:
the breeze cools, the wet ground freezing;
mud and grass lounge in puddles and prairies.
Cats eat trash, indifferently.
Night- it loves no one but the moon.
Sleep- yawns weakly like the stars;
dreaming, dreaming, but rest will not come.
It is dark outside but the cats are awake.


P.S: no idea that it was due at 2, i was stuck on 5, change is evil. not that it matters