ORDINARY MORNING MOON

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.

WHAT TIME IS IT, MRS WOLF (MOON)? - OR THE AMATEUR ASTRONOMER’S LAMENT

Wolf Moon rising - before the total eclipse in the wee small hours (Author's photo)

She’s risen! We’re feeling alright.

Best chance in ten years for a sight.

So get out the bins,

The thermos and lens,

And gaze at the sky, dead-of-night.

She’s Wolf! She’s Super! She’s Full!

Eclipsing like blood she’ll soon dull;

You think in your head,

“She’ll look great when she’s red!”

But that isn’t Wolf, it’s just Bull!

Cos when your alarm rings out loud,

And you’re poised, gazing moonward, so proud,

Comes that moment you dread,

And you’re straight back to bed -

There’s nothing to see but thick cloud!

BUCK MOON DUSK

Arianrhod's silver wheel

Caught in nets of purpled cloud

Birch suffused with shiver of steel

Glass castle and ring of flame

Keening over the spinning souls

Locked to earth by a chain of tides,

Sunset bruised the horizon rolls,

Never static and never tame

Now the velvet has bound her eyes

Kissed her lids with its violet shade

Night's birth is the day that dies

Whispered colours her fabric's frame

Speeding on through the radiant dark

Starflake piercing insomnia's gloom

Kirtles herself in rainbow's arc

Free of border and without name

(Joyce Barrass 2016)

Photographs of the Full Buck Moon rising over Wickersley Wood, South Yorkshire, UK and sunset in the western sky on the hottest day of the year, taken by the author and viewable in full HD over on  Joyce's Flickr where you can always find her photos of the Moon, clouds, birds, wildlife, natural world, passing aircraft, Yorkshire scenery and lots more of her passions and peculiarities. Her historical novel "GOATSUCKER HARVEST" is part of her lifelong lyrical lovesong to her native Yorkshire roots and is available from Amazon in paperback and as a Kindle ebook.

Thanks so much for visiting!