Shadow Moon

The earth would throw its reddish shadeOver that Mayan heroine“Blood Maid”—whom we call “Supermoon”These days (a new term for LunaAt her perigees)—when streaky Clouds began to spread dense veils leaving Unwelcome snaky dark-grey trails.
Then came a call from Pat next door To say that clouds had now at last Begun to fray. The Supermoon Was in the sky again. Its diamondShine had now begun to wane asPac Man Earth’s dark shadow took theFirst bite it would now swallow.
We sat in a deep pool of black Between the house, garage, and theDark green of grass, the gazebo’s Shapely silhouette—marked by faint Solar beads of lights—ahead andOn high a mirage—a gaining Moon its dark parts faint maroon.
It took a while until real light Had fled leaving behind a shade Of glowing red. Here was “Blood Moon”Named so, they say, by our prophets Predicting the Last Days. We readThe message, agreeing with the Sky, and hoped that Light would yetReturn, if only by-and-bye.