"Where the wild creatures ranged . . ."

I'll be arriving in Uruguay for December's full moon. Below is a beautiful poem just right for tonight . . .

Poem: "December Moon," by May Sarton, from Coming into Eighty (W.W. Norton & Company).

December Moon

Before going to bed
After a fall of snow
I look out on the field
Shining there in the moonlight
So calm, untouched and white
Snow silence fills my head
After I leave the window. 

Hours later near dawn
When I look down again
The whole landscape has changed
The perfect surface gone
Criss-crossed and written on
Where the wild creatures ranged
While the moon rose and shone. 

Why did my dog not bark?
Why did I hear no sound
There on the snow-locked ground
In the tumultuous dark? 

How much can come, how much can go
When the December moon is bright,
What worlds of play we'll never know
Sleeping away the cold white night
After a fall of snow.