Seemingly hanging in place
as the nightly world turns,
the smiling fingertip
crescent moon look downward
back at her companion, little Venus;
both shining confidently in self-assurance
of the coming canvassing into the celestial
waxing of the fullness of the ebon
beauty of coming nights.
Looking upward at this celestial
universal nightly stage as I drove down
the tarmac aisle bordered on both sides
by regal and stoic palisades of trees
in the fall of their lives, my heart
transitioned to a calming low blood
pressure beat as my ears streamed
Trane’s Love Supreme to my spirit.
If only I had the imaging words to
canvas this celestial stage up there
where several coming episodes of the
slanting relationships between the waxing
moon, her planet suitors, and her companion
Venus, as lunar life waxes to fulfillment to be
climaxed by a coming centuries-long eclipse.
Indeed, would if I could find a word brush to canvas
this ongoing celestial performance whose cosmic beauty,
the hued evening’s beauty reflects, is beyond the visioning
of mere lexical letters incapable of mirroring such. Praise be
we have eyes and the hued nights and bright sky’s reality
canvassing is totally free for us to see. What a show!