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| Here's one I took (much) earlier of the eclipsed blood supermoon back in 28th September 2015 |
I catch her early
Between wake and wash
(Me, not her!)
Slipping down sassy
(Her, not me!)
Swanning through sycamore twigs
In her lap-dance
Way way west.
I’m such a lightweight,
Not up to the occasion,
I stand watching
At the foot of the bed,
Shivering in woolly shawl
Over my PJs
Mittens missing fingers
Thermal hat half over one eye
While silver she stoops to stun.
Last night,
In the cross hairs of half the planet,
She hid from me, smirking,
Strategically gathering
Colonnades of cumulus
To cover her scarlet blush
Her lupine loveliness
Her winter plumage
Plump as the robin’s
Her breast as red
Eclipsing carmine
Cochineal completely
At the nub of the night
But now she is already
Moving on into wane
Nibbling her rind away
Crater by crater
Knowing I must wait
Years to witness the same.
If on such ordinary mornings
I ever fail to be
Bowled over by wonder
At her wistful waning,
I don’t deserve
Her headline-grabbing
Up-all-night
Shadow play
Her super, her full, her blood.
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