Noticing
The Night Sky
The recent “supermoon”
seduced us into noticing
the night sky.
Which we rarely do,
the heavens reduced
by artificial light,
too easily bemused
by our screens.
Which the human eye
cannot detect
from a full moon.
But we look up, nevertheless
hoping
seduced us into noticing
the night sky.
Which we rarely do,
the heavens reduced
by artificial light,
too easily bemused
by our screens.
Which the human eye
cannot detect
from a full moon.
But we look up, nevertheless
hoping
to be wonder-struck.
Or better still, sight
just above the horizon.
Where the moon seems truly giant,
the illusion of size
that never fails
Or better still, sight
just above the horizon.
Where the moon seems truly giant,
the illusion of size
that never fails
to take us by surprise.
This perigee-syzygy
suggest even physicists
have poetry in their souls,
that serious men
also take pleasure
in sibilant tongues.
I read it was two hundred twenty one
thousand miles from earth,
a distance my father would routinely drive
in the life of his cars.
Those big old GMs
whose engines never died,
like powerful land yachts
quietly plush
softly sprung.
A celestial object
you could easily attain
in daily commutes, family vacations
seems to make the universe
a little less lonely.
Planet earth, travelling through space,
accompanied
by its protégé.
That waxes and wanes
every month of our lives,
reliable
as clockwork.
But so familiar
we only ever notice
on its closest approach.
When we can't help looking up
at its scarred silvery face
and feel amazed.
Close enough
to reach out and touch
one arm-length away.
Actually, 221,800 miles(!)
"Super" is such a tired superlative. "Supermoon" sounds prosaic, as if someone was trying to sell you something ...something common and cheap. "Perigee-syzygy" is so much better!
But we did notice, having oddly forgotten the last time this occurred; which couldn't have been that long ago.
We rarely look up, we rarely feel wonder. Because the night sky is blotted out with artificial light. And because we are distracted by the simulations on our screens; or grow up jaded, taking too much for granted.
This perigee-syzygy
suggest even physicists
have poetry in their souls,
that serious men
also take pleasure
in sibilant tongues.
I read it was two hundred twenty one
thousand miles from earth,
a distance my father would routinely drive
in the life of his cars.
Those big old GMs
whose engines never died,
like powerful land yachts
quietly plush
softly sprung.
A celestial object
you could easily attain
in daily commutes, family vacations
seems to make the universe
a little less lonely.
Planet earth, travelling through space,
accompanied
by its protégé.
That waxes and wanes
every month of our lives,
reliable
as clockwork.
But so familiar
we only ever notice
on its closest approach.
When we can't help looking up
at its scarred silvery face
and feel amazed.
Close enough
to reach out and touch
one arm-length away.
Actually, 221,800 miles(!)
"Super" is such a tired superlative. "Supermoon" sounds prosaic, as if someone was trying to sell you something ...something common and cheap. "Perigee-syzygy" is so much better!
But we did notice, having oddly forgotten the last time this occurred; which couldn't have been that long ago.
We rarely look up, we rarely feel wonder. Because the night sky is blotted out with artificial light. And because we are distracted by the simulations on our screens; or grow up jaded, taking too much for granted.
This information -- 221,800; perigee-syzygy -- appeared in a
small blurb accompanying a photo essay about the supermoon in the on-line Atlantic
Weekly. I'm certain I've previously read about the distance of the moon
from earth. But for some reason, this time the number really struck. I
immediately saw it on the odometer of that old Buick: a very attainable number;
a number -- unlike the vast majority of numbers in astrophysics (or particle
physics, for that matter!) -- that's on a human scale; that you can actually
grasp!
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