“The Water of the Suns” by W.S. Merwin

In craters in the west other suns went down
and by morning no one believed it
no one has to believe it the mountains
aren’t selling anything

some of the suns left gold
many left water for the next time

when you spend that gold you feel the night coming on
and nothing to make a fire
under all the empty mountains

but when you drink that water you begin to wait
you hear your time falling into you out of a stone
you begin to grope through your cold veins calling
like a bird before sunrise

till the morning that needs you