The floor, moonlit, the moon behind you, is not enclosed by walls; a patch of sky is hidden by distant trees. But a patch of floor is itself hidden by the sky’s legs, standing on it, and this cannot be the opportunity for useless thoughts.
René Magritte (Belgium, 1898-1967), from Le Lèvres Nues (1968)
Source: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/detail/89732