Eclipse

Swaying to the broken music
of the porch swing
in a brown study of a moon
clouded red,
on its chin a quivering lip of white
pouting defiantly,
I marveled that our riotous rotating vessel
interposing itself jealously
between mother and father
was the cause of the gibbous shadowing
of her face,
and I wondered how often
do we stand stubbornly between the light
and the long view,
baffled and frightened by the darkness?

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