(Photo by Tim Mccord in



The last strands of daylight are consumed by the dusk,
two geese glide overhead sounding noisy and brusque
there’s a calmness on the prairie; a slight stir in the trees.
the paper I’m reading bends to the breeze
and we all await ….the Supermoon.

The small moon sits ominously atop the horizon like a cap
due east from where I’m sitting with my dog in my lap
here on the porch leading out to the deck
as we wait for the moon to change from a speck
and we hope that that change…. is soon.

The city lights are twinkling five miles to the east
the moon’s in its climb and transforming to a beast
The crickets are clicking and the frogs sing their tune
a hoot owl hoots and, expectantly, the coyote will…. soon
as the little speck is now big and wide.

From where I am sitting it’s hidden by the trees
as I grab my binoculars and stumble through leaves
fresh fallen on the yard as if it were fall
and I’ll mow them again and not get them all
but for now I’ll just kick them aside.

Imperceptibly has appeared a glow in the dark
on the grass, ‘cross the fields, on the buildings and bark
of the trees now stilled by a silence unknown
and an eerie sensation all around has grown
as the Supermoon shines from above.

The hairs on my neck all raise in salute.
The moment is mystical;  profoundly acute.
The city lights are dimmer as the light from each star.
The glow has now faded…. here and afar
but the ”glow”  moment we shared….was loved.

t. j. gargano

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