A Poet's Lament For the Night
As twilight dims in western skies,
umbra’s odd and coppery band
gloams slowly cross the perished land.
Mystery to our wond'ring eyes,
this marvel now can be unveiled—
a shadow looms, moonlight impaled.
Scarce minutes though its firm demise,
phantasm this or merely dream,
supplanted now by arc lamp's beam.
For few regard eclipsed moon rise,
snuffed out by artificial day
of garish neon’s crude Cosplay.
Heaven itself denied apprise,
for surfeit reigns with paucity,
confirming our vacuity.
A sad lament must then arise,
and honor for the night persist;
ersatz and real ought coexist.
* * * *
As twilight dims in western skies—
mystery to our wond'ring eyes—
scarce minutes though its firm demise,
for few regard eclipsed moon rise.
Heaven itself denied apprise,
A sad lament must then arise.
1st Place, Andrea's Inspiration, Connie's Form, Constanza
Click above on "About this Poem" for commentary on terms/lines.
Dedicated to the International Dark Sky Association<>
Copyright © Mark Peterson | Year Posted 2013
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