Three short lines set up a strange, quiet scene: at night, a body "begins to ring," like a bell struck by something unseen. The title, "Resonance," fits. Darkness seems to wake up a kind of inner vibration, a sensitivity that daytime noise covers over. The speaker doesn't explain it, which makes it feel both physical and a little mystical.
Then the tone shifts to a plain confession: "I love a cold moon." The reason that follows is surprising. The moon is loved because it is dangerous to walk on water, which suggests a cold, glassy light spread across a surface that looks solid but isn't. The speaker seems drawn to that risk, to beauty that tempts you to step out too far.
The mood is hushed, cool, and a bit thrilling. Fear and attraction sit side by side, and the poem leaves us with the feeling of standing at the edge of something, listening to ourselves hum.