September Moon, Waxing


Waxing, it rose in the east—

Or was the earth turning eastward?

The waxing moon rose (or met the earth) to show its quiet face.

Above the fence and between the crepe myrtle leaves

It revealed itself:

Full of beuty, serene, passive. 


In the telescope eyepiece the waxing, moving moon

Shared its changeling face,

Mountains and seas, lakes and craters—

All there, all held and given by early evening light.


Holding the camera to the telescope eyepiece,

Steadying the camera against the eyepiece itself.

I found the face, focused, and

Pressed the shutter. 


Eight-six times I pressed the shutter.

Moving the telescope now and again

To catch the racing moon. 


Soon, too soon, its rising—

Or was it the earth’s turning—

Put it byond my reach—

No matter: my evening had been made rich by its passing.


--September 16, 2013