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
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