It happened only yesternight.
Earth’s shadow touched the moon a bit,
The earth quite unaware of it,
Just turning, turning left to right.
Penumblar is the word we use
To name a partial moon eclipse.
It starts on top and then it dips.
It travels but it doesn’t bruise
The bright-lit surface of the moon
At all but merely looks as if
The lanteen of a distant skiff
Had briefly shaded silver dunes.
Who watched? We did, but we saw naught.
Our global angle wasn’t right
Although the Hunter’s moon was bright,
So round! So who can be distraught?
Bravo! There are some things best said in poetry.
ReplyDeleteThere can never be enough poems composed to do justice to the wonderment I feel when, on a clear night, I look up to admire our heavenly and silent neighbor. Thank you for this one!
ReplyDeleteMy thanks, Brigitte, go to you -- for inspiring that poem in the first place. And my thanks to you, Brandon, for that bravo -- in awe at your own efforts to capture a tiny corner of the cosmos in 31 poems in October! Brave effort!
ReplyDeleteI, too, looked for the eclipse at moonrise, but came up empty. Somehow I feel this poem was my little reward.
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