Poet’s Corner – Eclipse April 8, 2024

By Elisabeth Frischauf

Moon takes his good time—
he knows he’ll cover the sun
show all those good folk
eyes behind black plastic strips
riveted skyward;  split view.
Between two buildings
warm part sun feels good, spread
especially on bare hands 
Wrens chirp, pigeons beg; it turns cool.
Two women on bench convinced they’ll 
see next one in twenty years;
unsteady, together get up.
New York City’s strange peace—
Sun like a ripe cantaloupe
scooped out fresh for fruit salad
usual noise, haste gone—
Sickle sun not moon’s
chance to play rosy-blush shapes
Banana?  Pickle? 

Top photo: Bigstock