Eclipse

The morning we woke at three
and stepped out barefoot into grass
chilled by a gathering dew

to watch the moon dissolve particle
by luminous particle, earth-shadow passing
like a gloved hand over that one

good eye. Remember, moments before it shut,
how the pines went wild with owls—
more than twenty Great Horned

hooting laments or thrills, thrashing
wings colossol as boughs?
Do you remember, the light

or dark of that hour—revelations
invoked by a mask of shadow, both of us
chanting yes yes yes—

the cheated darkness, the field
holding its breath? 

—for Kate Bass