The eclipse which wasn’t
left us up at midnight disappointed,
tasted bitter in our hopeful parts
like silence at a long reunion.
Expectation being what it is
I turned the burning logs and waited
to see penumbral majesty unveiled;
a forgotten conversation keeping on
as many do, in someone’s head.
But all the while, a quiet voice
corrects me: don’t blame the moon
that I expected what would never be.
July 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment