On Hearing that the Moon is Leaving Us
My brother, amateur astronomer,
Focus the funnel of your telescope
To pull the stars into your backyard.
You say the moon is making a slow escape:
An inch or two each year, its orbit grows
Like a ripple ring to wash its mottled float
Beyond the hold of Earth. I feel surprise
To feel surprised when you say the experts state
It’s certain now: the universe will swell
Without an end. There will be no pulling back,
No chance to start again. This mirror, small
And smudged, reflecting back a fleck
Of sun to carry us through all our nights,
Is showing what it shares with us is flight.
Header photo by AstroStar, courtesy Shutterstock.