Born in the Shadow

The Earth cast a shadow across its moon
the night my daughter’s boy was born.
The shadow moon glowed red like a fox bathed in dusk.
Children know the moon has a face,
the face of a man who, during this hole in his spotlight,
becomes invisible, hiding from sunbeams
that frame the shadow’s shaft.
The shadow cast upon no wall,
no ground, no bottom. Just the moon
and the man hiding on its face. But I saw him.
I saw him for the boy who hasn’t seen him yet.
But he will. He will learn to look for that
smiling face. I will tell him. And I will tell him
that on his first night, in the darkness of a bedroom
that would become the lair of this boy,
only eight hours from his mother’s womb
this boy yet to receive his name,
I watched a shadow cross the face of the moon.
And the moon and the fox and the shadow and the sunbeams
and the Earth and I welcome him to his new home.
Two cosmic events on the same day.
I made a wish.

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