this is called the waning crescent

in actuality, to these eyes, it means 

the moon is a sliver of itself, a cradle

rocking low in the sky to the east

through the dry, high desert air

that i am finding rarified and lacking

the light of the crescent, bathed

by sunlight that is yet hours away

is autumnal orange, though those words

only weakly convey what i am seeing

nearby, of a different hue, is mars

they are in conjunction, that is

lovers dancing in proximity, not touching

not yet, maybe never, celestial behavior

is not unlike earthly behavior

it is often thwarted, denied fulfillment

not through a lack of desire, tomorrow

the moon will be invisible in these skies

mars alone, mars brooding, mars pining

or, just a cold planet circling a hot star

i look at this moon and this planet

and make up a story that tells my story

proximity without fulfillment

i know it is, in a way, everyone's story