We see the earth get in the way —
or is it the moon swinging over the earth,
the sun underneath?
Earth's shadow slithers across the white-light face
stealthily as a clock, ticking a month of phases
on a clear evening.
Brilliant crescents slim and dim down to an eery orb.
The hare on its haunches sits low-key at mid-heaven,
rust on a magic lantern.
Meaning what — what can it mean,
the extraordinary passage of a shadow
across the beautiful moon?
Her fierce light burns
ringing silver,
eroded and remade.
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