Lunar

Probably a poem-in-progress. This was written just after the blood moon/full lunar eclipse on January 21st.

Near the end of the eclipse, I walked into the redwood forest behind my house, looking for a space with the best view. Usually I stay on my deck, mindful of the mountain lion who roams our woods, hungrier than ever because the deer are gone. But not tonight; the blood moon made me reckless. I wore my sister's old woolen sweater as I stood in the cold, watching the eclipse through binoculars. If the mountain lion wanted a snack, there I was. Astounding sight of the penumbra drawing out and away from the Tycho crater (think of the moon as an orange all made of silver, and Tycho as the place where the stem got plucked out). A barn owl warned me away; the moon played a child's game in the clouds, now you see her, now you don't. She sent down rain, wind to scour the sky, clouds, more rain. Watched her sleight-of-hand; the moon knows all the sly tricks: pearl-in-the-dragon's-belly, widow-in-a-shawl, silver-plate-reappearing, lantern-in-an-ice-ring.