I am alone
Sitting in a corner
With my walking stick
And my camera.
My walking stick and camera
Are my mates today.
Everyone is working.
My walking stick
it has worked a lot too;
the rubber tip has gone
leaving it unprotected.
I struggle with the sound
Of it clicking on the sidewalk
Not liking the attention
It brings me, and using it
On the look-alike marble
Inside buildings is like
Attempting to slide
To second base–
You risk a lot, but
I have made it
To the viewpoint,
Donned my glasses,
And set my myself
In a corner near the tattoo table
Taking photos of people
People of all ages who
Who have also
Donned eclipse tattoos
Along with their glasses.
Away from the crowd
Where everyone is
With someone
I ask some to let me
“Let me photograph your tattoo?”
Some I take on the sneak.
The eclipse is eerie
Through the Looking Glass
Where everything is black
Besides the one focal point–
The focal point of the eclipse,
And if I take my camera to it
My camera picks up bright
Brighter than bright sunlight–
The sunlight one should not look at
For fear of going blind—similar to
What young boys are told,
After they have found
Found their private parts,
Only this threat can bear fruit.
We will not get a total eclipse here
So it is not safe to peak.
Still there is a strange darkening.
The colors are mildly not the same,
But we don’t even get to see…
To see our 83%.
Big grey clouds
Have tumbled over
Over the wedding bed
Hiding their intimate encounter.
I wait until the separation
Is complete.
And I walk to my car
My car in the rain and
My walking stick clicking
Click click clicking.
It is hot
North Carolina swim, through the humidy
Hot, Even the birds are looking for shade
I park my tractor and go inside
Water and airconditioning on my mind
Just a break
Afew minutes of air
I remember the eclipse
But I have seen many
No big deal
But I grab my tablet
Click a few photos
Of nothing much
A momento of one more act of power
Cooler, hydrated I go back out
Mount my steel steed and
Push the levers, pull the cutting switch out
Go back to doing the everyday, mundane
Tasks of country living
An eclipse is nothing much
Much ado about nothing
Except for one thing
For just a moment
People forget their hate
They stand together
Watching nothing much but
Sharing one peaceful moment in time
As the blades of my tractor
Rip through the tall grass
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