It was a perfect night for viewing the Super Harvest Blood Moon. Not a cloud to be seen. The only problem was that at its zenith, where all the drama took place, the moon was directly over our chimney pots, and invisible from any of the windows.
I could have popped outside to look, but my bed was a warm nest and it would have meant getting dressed again. So I missed it. But I did see the huge, magnificent golden globe that rose so majestically in the evening, and by 4.30 am it had moved sufficiently far across the sky to be visible again as a pale yellow crescent as it emerged from the Earth’s shadow, so I suppose I can claim to have seen at least part of the show.
It reminded me of another eclipse that I watched – in full – from my Alpine home years ago when the moon rose from behind the mountains and gave a stupendous performance. Taking advantage of poetic licence, I have updated some lines I wrote at that time to imagine how this would have looked had I still been sitting gazing out at the event over the snow-capped Alps.
Wants midnight in black velvet
– Or will possibly concede navy blue and a few diamonds –
But this night is all swathed in white satin
With swansdown and pearls
The mountains are wearing grey silk off-the-shoulder clouds
And the moon is auditioning for the role of the sun
And hamming it up –
Flaunting herself like a pneumatic peroxide blonde
Outsize, with excess candlepower,
Preening and pouting,
Parading on her zenith catwalk
For her One-Moon Show
Her Exclusive Special Performance
Extra-full in an empty sky with
A professional act, perfectly rehearsed,
Leading up to the super-dramatic climax
Applauded by the stars:
Her total eclipse.