The sprinklers tick tick tick;
the neighborhood hounds are frisky and calling to one another;
Even the orbs gather round to celebrate her glory.
The dark is alive and beating with a distant drum.
People are gathering, under the moon tonight-the beautiful Super Moon.
There is no humble bow of her brilliance.
She proudly draws closer than she's been all year, in a ceremonial exhibition.
My camera hungrily laps the brilliant scene,
and I inwardly bemoan that it cannot replicate the perception of my vision.
and I inwardly bemoan that it cannot replicate the perception of my vision.
In wonder I gaze into her splendor.
The nocturnal chatter quiets my soul.
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