After missing the eclipse the night before,
I drive home in the blazing incandescence

of a full moon on high beam, power lighting
the sky so that when I step out of the car

to try to capture its radiance, I land in
moonshadow and began humming the song,

remembering that even when I cannot see
the orangey-red penumbra momentarily swallow

our nearest celestial neighbor, the miracle
happens nonetheless. Of course, it does,

this form of grace so freely bestowed
upon us earthlings who have done nothing

to earn such a sweet gift as that
temporary tangerine beaming

glimmers of love into the night sky.