Moonrise was waiting for first light
to send it on it’s modest arc across
the southeast corner of the
starry dome. I rose, stepped out
to warm the car, anxious to catch
up with Boston, out ahead into the day.
Jet planes are time machines. And yet,
the sky stood me still. I lingered.
I noticed how often I stop
to look up, watching, and
wanting to get back to something;
to be where I was
I became distracted