The Noticing – Reviewed
In the grocery store parking lot I stopped.
I stopped when I saw her shining above.
What glory, she captivated the sky
and the cold felt fresh, an awakening to
…
You may find the rest of the poem here.
The Noticing – Poem by Ali Grimshaw
© by owner. provided at no charge for educational purposes
Analysis
The moon is always there, but how often do people actually see it? The Noticing is about that—about paying attention, about remembering to look. It starts in the most ordinary place, a grocery store parking lot, where the speaker suddenly stops. That pause is important. It breaks the rhythm of daily life, like they’ve caught themselves mid-step, pulled out of routine by something simple but undeniable.
It’s just the moon. Nothing unusual. Not an eclipse, not a rare alignment, just the same moon that’s always been there. But in this moment, it feels different. The way the poem slows down after that first abrupt line mirrors the shift in awareness. The speaker isn’t just glancing at the moon—they’re seeing it. The words settle into a quiet rhythm, unforced, giving space between thoughts. There’s a kind of reverence in how it’s described: “What glory, she captivated the sky.” It’s awe, but not exaggerated. It feels real, like a breath caught in cold air.
And then comes the key phrase: the noticing. It’s not about discovering something new; it’s about remembering what’s already there. That’s the heart of the poem. The speaker is aware of how easy it is to forget, how often people move through the world without looking. The noticing isn’t just seeing—it’s paying attention, being present, breaking out of the haze of everyday distractions. The poem doesn’t fill the moment with unnecessary details. Just the moon, a planet nearby, the quiet dark, and a breath held in the cold. That’s all it needs.
The structure of the poem mirrors this moment of clarity. The short lines slow everything down, creating pauses that make the reader feel the same stillness the speaker feels. The phrasing is simple, unpolished, letting the experience speak for itself. There’s no rush, no urgency. Just the moment, held open.
And then the last turn. “How lucky that the noticing / still lives within me.” There’s relief in that—maybe even a little surprise. The speaker hasn’t lost this ability, even if they weren’t sure it was still there. But then comes the weight of the final line: “So many have forgotten to look up.” That’s the quiet sadness underneath it all. The poem never directly says what’s been lost, but it lingers in that ending.
Forgetting to look up isn’t just about missing the moon. It’s about losing something deeper—the ability to pause, to pay attention, to step outside of routine and see something beyond it. The poem doesn’t try to make a grand statement. It just recreates a moment, one that feels both personal and universal. It doesn’t tell the reader what to do, but by the time it ends, the question is already there: When was the last time you looked up?
Photo by Andrés Gómez on Unsplash
