Picking Up Shiny Things

naked eye

A flame red moon, the owl’s eye
winks, early fallen leaves
are dark confetti
on a well-kept lawn.

The eclipse has stolen my sleep,
tucked it away like a thief.
I am ever the lamb of the sky,
the easy mark, enthralled by cloud

and constellation. This night
it is the sharp edged umbra that enchants,
the nested shadows aligned,
Taurus and Orion on the eastern rise.

It is now, pale throat revealed,
upturned and empty, that I feel
most full, most able. The lucent coin
that hovers above is a portal.

In totality’s fire I dip my hands
and drink deep the lambent light,
a rendered radiance that bears
the sweetness of a pledge.