Lunar Occultation

Halfway up the maple, the moon looks
suspended in a mesh of telephone wires.

A few hours ago it blotted a bright blue
planet from the sky—it takes 84 Earth years

for a single year to pass there but the moon
obscures it in ten seconds before its thirteen

rings can split the horizon. On this harvest month
it can dim even the dog star but now it needs my help—

tilting my head in homage I take a few steps
to the right, and the moon is free.

 

*

 

Author’s note: The lunar occultation referred to is when the moon passes in front of a planet, in tonight’s case, Uranus. I combined this with the visual experience I had in my front yard this evening. In the long run, I think the version of the poem below, shorter and without the additional planet-specific info, may be the final form this poem takes. Because the specific information about how distance affects time and perception, is very interesting to me, and just kinda cool, I wanted to share the original poem above as well. Due to an unfortunate hit-and-run accident soon after its formation, Uranus is also a strangely tilted planet, thus the reference in the last stanza. Feel free to comment on which version you prefer. 

Lunar Occultation

Halfway up the maple, the moon looks
suspended in a mesh of telephone wires.

A few hours ago it blotted a bright blue
planet from the sky—now it needs my help.

Tilting my head in homage I take a few steps
to the right, and the moon is free.