Moonsighting in Maine

 

Moonsighting in Maine

The white moon
in the black basin of the sky,
soft and luminous,
rose over tidal water
and seemed to enlarge
as if lobbed out
by some strange engine
and now was falling back.
But it stayed away
where it found its place
long ago when it left
being part of where we stood.
Fear drove us to think
it might come crashing back
like the comet that hit
a giant planet and made
a dark bruise on impact
as large as our Atlantic.
No, our moon, regular
and guessproof, revolves
as we spin, a rocky world,
around the flaring sun.
Our only satellite
makes us sense our worth
knowing we are rooted on earth.
On distant worlds do others,
living and conscious
watchers, follow their skies?
Do they call those
revolving objects around
them as we do --
simply "moon"
or something else --
as if we can know
the real name?                   

  

 

Royal Rhodes 

 

Royal Rhodes is a retired teacher of global religions, religion & literature, and death & dying. His poems have appeared in print and online journals, including: BEARINGS, Snakeskin, The Lyric, Cholla Needles, Harbinger Asylum, and in a series of art/poetry collaborations with The Catbird [on the Yadkin] Press in North Carolina. His current project is an exhibition on The Art of Trees.