Ever reducing crescents
Carved by a shadow of curiosity
As we drift into the penumbra
Unaccustomed to the luminosity,

The brightly glowing ring,
Feather strokes of light
Surrounding a moon of darkness
Outlined by the night.

A flash of brilliant blue
Followed by bright red,
It’s as if a precious jewel
Along the edge is led.

Then the spell reverses,
The day suddenly returns
The crescent begins to grow
As the sun above still burns.

The magic safe for the retina
At the height of totality
Is seared instead into the mind
As we regress into reality.