The date circled
on the desk calendar
announces the total eclipse
of the moon.
In the TV guide, most channels
overlook the lunar event,
but remember the day
Elvis died.
For the sages, time
is a wide-open plain, a prairie
of history waving
in the solar wind.
Your birthday clicks, a cog turning
in the wheel of the lone tractor
gathering its harvest
on a moonless night.
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