These February evenings, our invisible daytime Moon,
lost in the Sun’s glare, has moved
east of the setting sun, a crescent
briefly seen in the west after sundown.
Earthshine is softly lighting the dark side.
around the world, a common sight shared –
the last quarter Moon and nearby Virgo’s
bright first-magnitude star, Spica – half-illuminated in sunlight,
half in moonshadow, lit side always pointing
eastward, looking, as we do, for sunrise.
Depiction of Virgo, c.1000
I wake up before the sun rises
looking East to the Moon and Venus.
The two brightest celestial bodies of night,
here in the morning, reminds me of
that which is omnipresent but often forgotten.
I play Satie softly not to awaken
her upstairs. I’m not much of a
musician, more a phonometrician, measuring and writing
down sounds as the Moon approaches fullness,
far from Paris, breathing in 3/4 time.
“You aren’t just the age you are, you are all the ages you have ever been.” ~ Kenneth Koch
morning, pebbles making small ripples like fish
in afternoon sun, this was my beach
now empty but for summer moon and me
two silver waning slivers silent as water
a bridge that no one is crossing