Written by MininaMacnak, this tiny poem gives us a single quiet picture: the Moon washing her face with starlight, then closing her eyes to rest. The title, "Waxing...", points to the phase when the Moon grows fuller each night, and the trailing dots suggest something still in progress, not yet complete.
The poem turns the Moon into a person with a gentle bedtime routine. Starlight becomes water, and the sky becomes a kind of washbasin. There's no clear speaker voice or stated feeling, but the tone is tender and observant, as if someone is watching the Moon from a respectful distance and smiling at what they see. Nothing happens quickly. Even the word "rested" ends the line softly, like a sigh.
The mood is calm, intimate and a little dreamy. It's the feeling of the end of a long day, when everything slows down. The idea that growth, like the waxing Moon's, needs pauses might be an inference worth considering, but the poem itself simply lets us enjoy the stillness.