Just in time for the full lunar eclipse, Randy Brown presents a father-daughter moment beneath a “blood moon.”
red moon rising
The blood moon hovers a fingertip’s width
above the house next door; my daughter and I brace
our camera’s sullen shutter against a tree, diminishing
the shake of our hands.
There will be other times such as these,
I tell her.
You will see this again, and again,
if you know when and where to look.
Wars and presidents will come and go.
So, too, will parents and children and other first loves.
All will be eclipsed in memory, leaving you.
Once, my father took me out to the backyard,
to watch a rocket rise into the night, launched from Cape Canaveral.
The image in my binoculars
danced like a waterbug on fire.
Remember this morning.
Remember getting up too early,
and watching the moon go dark with your dad.
And I will remember the moment
you looked away from that moon,
and squealed at the stars now visible
through the threadbare autumn trees.
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Photo by Hanzlers Warped Visions/Flickr