The Same Favorite Moon

Here’s a poem I wrote a few years ago for my daughter Jenny, now 18, when she was learning to drive. This “sliver of a silver crescent” moon has since become “our thing,” and whenever either of us sees it (I have no idea when or how often the moon takes this shape…) we call each other. I’ve come to love the moment when my phone rings and I hear Jenny’s voice say, “Daddy, look in the sky! It’s our moon!” (see also my attempt at a painting to capture the poem…)

You probably don’t remember but
we were out driving one night
and I looked out the window and saw
my favorite moon.
A sliver of a silver crescent
of the bottom of a globe
a delicate, fragile, candy bowl of a moon
just sitting there in the early spring sky
waiting to catch whatever fell into its belly.
I was mesmerized by it and told you so.
You, this delicate, fragile moon in my life,
this satellite spinning steadily around me.
And you looked up briefly and smiled
and said, “Yeah, it’s my favorite, too.”
And I thought: How glorious.
How mind-numbingly and achingly perfect
That we share the same favorite moon.