THE ECLIPSE
Three oldsters sit on a wall to watch
The super moon’s eclipse, a sight
They will not live to see again.
The stars shine faint in the ebony night
As a shadow darkens the moon’s left rim.
This moon that bathes our faces with light
And spotlights the jet plane streaking west
In olden times would have filled with fright
Our primitive ancestors’ childish hearts.
A monstrous mouth they would have thought
Was eating their beacon amidst the gloom.
It is not without some dread we watch
The red cloak spread across the moon.
When barely a sliver of silver shows
We rise and repair to our separate quarters.
The next night we welcome the cheering glow
Of an only slightly diminished goddess
Who yet protects us from the dark.
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