Eclipse
You keep on looking for the moon. It fails
To show itself. At times the afternoons
Destroy the view with heavy crumpled veils
More like a burkha made of godless dunes
Those scores of million centuries before
Mohammad’s Allah was created from
The Prophet’s indigestion. But then more
The boring red-brick buildings’ rooftops come
Between your vision of the evening sky
And where the moon might be. The trees
Around your old oaks’ square can block the eye
From lunar insights. Twilight isn’t crowned.
..Perhaps the heart should do the searching. Then
….You might at last attain the day’s amen.
~ Phillip Whidden