Sunday, June 4, 2017



A waxing gibbous moon rises during the hours between noon
and sunset; sets in the wee hours after midnight.  In that window
of time, sit out on your porch and look to the southern sky;

more than half-lighted but less than full, this moon is eager,
bright as firefly lust in summer. Focus your gaze on the moon’s
tattooed surface: Sinus Iridum – Bay of Rainbows – surrounded

by the ragged Jura Mountains. Imagine walking across that dry sea,
hiking up those cliffs. Imagine looking back across the void
at Earth, in all her blue and green glory.  Now, just below, a little

to the east of the moon, Jupiter settles like a jewel, pierces your eye
with June brilliance. You think, no human hand has ever cast
such a pendant as these two, moon and planet dazzling darkness,

suspended in the hollow of night’s throat. Notice Corvus the Crow,
who watches from his southwest perch; he covets shiny things.
One night only; in 24 hours, Jupiter glides away. Spica steps up,

asks the moon for this dance. Luna accepts graciously. Planet, star,
it makes no difference to her. All she asks is a virtuosity of light,
an understanding of celestial rhythm. You could learn from her.

Deborah A. Miranda

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