Remote Control

As the sun makes its majestic run, the moon

Retreats, defeated. With pride stung, it hides

Among the sun’s shadows, awaiting the cue

To re-do yesterday. This lofty pair meet and

Greet twice a day on their way to work, on their

Way to play. We feel their presence. They are

Inured to ours. Too majestic to acknowledge the

Earthlings below on which they bestow rhythms

That cadence birth, breath and death, they keep

In sight but not in touch, intimate and distant.