moon covers sun and
sun’s passion disappears, sorts itself into scatters and fades into night. daytime is nighttime is daytime and we gather to witness the undoing of the universe, briefly, brightly, lightly
meanwhile the ant cleaning crew crawls into the dishwasher, and the mice roll around inside the couch, chewing pathways, settling into nestling bundles
the squirrel jumps up the roof, towards the window, peeking inside, squeaking away.
and, yes, as Moon goes to cover sun, the spider crawls into emilys hair
and all the humans gather to stare at the sky, backs turned to the ducks in a perfect row along the streambank.
we crane our necks to see Moon punish us for placing bootprints on her perfection
as somewhere, a bat flies into a house and hangs to rest inside the light fixture.
we twist our bodies to witness Moon sculpting the waves
turn away from the mice in our living room, the bats in our halls, the spiders in our heads – we watch the magnificent unfold and forget its already unfolding – we pause briefly to gasp yet the animals recognize the normality of totality – night is day is night and whether we watch or not, the mysteries continue.