Eclipse

This strange dusk at noon, masking
a fire that can sear our vision
with its intensity, the radio warning us
to shield our eyes.
It is noon for you also,
my daughter, and darkness travels
across your fierce light.
I make a pin-hole for a few words;
“How are you?” I ask lightly,
as if I could journey through space,
as if I could touch that raw
flaming. I am your mother
but I cannot pull the moon
down from the sky.