The Lyric Moment Because the ground is wet still and the moon small, and because the wildfire smoke tells of summer, we place our shoes on the ground before stepping into the grass and remember a friend telling his students that the lyric moment must be created among them if they are to understand Rilke. Again and again, however we know the landscape of love, the deep scent of night, earth coating the lines of our heels, the skin calloused, the darkness a thing to be touched, the heart beginning to sing in a language we wait to be taught, we wait, we wait.