Fly with me tonight, like Clark and Lois,
around our world, gazing lovers in awe
of this Flower Moon. Look there, how it glows
a pale pink pastel haloing our tall
Lady in New York harbor. In Paris
it hovers in burnished gold just above
that Tower. Farther on, how can this year’s
last supermoon balance like crimson doves
huddled in love over the dark top tier
of Rome’s Colosseum? We flow, Greek gods
on a mission now, beneath mythic sphere’s
aura seeming to ignite Parthenon’s
cracked columns. And suddenly we’re at home,
shining, enshrined in our blessed lunar calm.
Roger Armbrust
June 4, 2020
