Being human, I resent
That doesn’t present as planned.
Nights can be clear around here
For weeks, weeks, and weeks on end,
And every full moon can leer
Like a mugshot crudely scrawled
Onto the skin of a white
Close and bright, but on the night,
The one night of the eclipse,
The blushing moon tried to hide
High in veils of clouds.
Tonight, bold, back out again.