DUSK ILLUSION

I saw a moose in your yard:
Fat body, four legs, rack of antlers;
But it was only a double-lid smoker,
Rusty with a smokestack-neck.

Then the moon,
Flying off course
Way up chilly north;
A spotlight-cloud reflection.

Then a prick of sadness in
Your eye;
Or was it that
Troublesome sty?