The mid-September moon
rests its heavyset bulb over in the West,
while the new days sun
stirs behind the
Eastern shoulders.
The sky mixed the lights
just so-
-no conclusions could be made
mid-stroke.
What feels inexplicably
right about certain alignments
gives us false hope
that the observer ultimately
affects changes.
There is more in a moment
to grasp
than our primal hands
can hold onto.
The season changes
its mind-
even if,
the movements
were always the same
-the differences became too small
to notice
the rate of spin
unravels
in astronomical units.
Painting by George Hemming Mason, 'Harvest Moon' , c.1872.
