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Slow Moving Moon

By Marea Rose Jenness

It started out a slit of light.
Stubbornly, it grew to a crescent.
In this January-February sky,
while I wait to see you for the first time,
its progress seems painfully slow.
Three-quarters now, it will be full in three nights.
Then in reverse, it will shrink to a crescent before I travel.
Eleven long nights.
I have no power to speed the earth's shadow as it moves across the moon's face.
I think that I may notice each degree of progress.

© Copyright 2000 Marea Rose Jenness

Marea Rose Jenness wrote this poem while waiting for her travel date to adopt her son from Vietnam, in the winter of 2001.
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