I tried on Friday night
to capture the Honey Moon
in a sky, washed clean
by a sudden thunderstorm
earlier in the day,
but my camera said,
I ran back inside for
my tablet, sending a dark blur
to three people with snapchat,
too complex and ephemeral
but I try to keep up with
technology, for the challenge.
After such a busy week,
I might have forgotten, except
I wrote the term on the calendar
having to explain two words, unsuccessfully,
forty times to my husband,
who blissfully slept through it anyway.
Without binoculars, the Honey Moon
was so bright and reasurring above
quiet tree tops and sleeping birds.
I wanted to share it with someone,
letting two cats out the back door,
only to narrowly escape being locked out
wearing a Call of Duty MW3 t-shirt,
grey leggings and no shoes,
well past midnight.