Something that passes

There is an oversensitive noise between the wheat, a few meters away, like a little animal smelling out something.
A shrew, a ferret, a rate, a night serpent entering my ears.
My shade sinks in the wheat, up to the land, spreads out between the erect stems of the white wheat.
Something that passes fluttering, making a slight movement in the inmovible air.
I look to the sky and see the old shining moon.