A lone speaker stands on a high stone at winter dusk. The wind is sharp, and darkness is settling in from the south Ards. Over the loch and the town below, the moon rises white and almost unreal. The speaker’s reaction is simple but striking: he takes off his hat, salutes the moon as if greeting a person or a queen, then turns and climbs down into the darkness.
The mood is quiet, cold, and reverent. There is no conversation, no crowd—just one person, a bitter wind, and an enormous moon. The salute makes the moment feel both playful and solemn, as though the moon deserves respect or friendship. Ending on “descend into the darkness” leaves a sense of solitude and mystery, as if the speaker carries that brief, bright encounter back down into the night.