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Here you will find the writings of the poet Theodore Waterfield

The Lunar Eclipse

The white lunar sun
is dissolved by the scimitar
of earth,
to a soft red pearl.
I raised my camera
to record the majesty
of the eclipse.

Three titanic gods
in a shadow dance with each other.
My infinitesimal fingers
gathering a jewel of ingenuous beauty,
a profound glory of moon, planet
and star
in genuflection to each other.

I took several pictures,
then in humble exhaustion,
returned to my bed.
A tired animal wanting its dreams
back,
the wrap of its blanket around it,
and relief from the mighty cosmos
conducting a show,
in an empty theater,
rivaling the Parthenon.

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