for Catherine, my daughter
Full gleam holding its lace-sculpted shadows,
opal sphere edges past my writing room’s
double windows, light heading north. Now bows
and exits right past my frame, and yet looms
a while on its top ledge as though wanting
to remember this cloudless ebony
stage. Still I, having checked your sky’s daunting
radar view, see what our bright moon’s stony
satellite eye sees: mass of swirling storms
stretching across central Missouri. They’ll
scatter through the day, bring late sunshine’s warm
caress to you, as I would were I well
within reach. Then clear night will hold you soon
within your own midnight moon, birthday moon.
Roger Armbrust
August 21, 2010
