The man on the moon was busy that day,
With all the preparations underway,
For it was the one day his neighbors would pay him attention.
His home would be more interesting than a constellation,
For it was the day of the occultation.
Ever since the moon landing,
And since his poor soul opted for hiding,
The celestial man had been planning his big reveal,
To show the world that he, indeed, existed,
And was willing to be befriended.
What better day could he have chosen,
Than the day of the eclipse.
The day in which the most earthling eyes would be pointing the natural satellite.
The ever present, but not always visible ball in white.
That day it would be red and bloody.
The planet’s one and only kite.
So the man in the moon prepared signs,
Meticulously home-made and home-drawn every single one.
He had been studying human languages and was fascinated by them,
He would be greeting the earthlings in 6500 different tongues,
And didn’t forget to do little drawings on the sides.
About an hour too early he had finished decorating,
So he took his folding chair and tray of food,
He brought his moon pie, moon cakes, and some local cheese,
He also brought some moon flower tea for drinking.
Then he started waiting, waiting until his home turned red.
When the time came,
He had forgotten the most essential of his supplies,
And as the humans started looking,
He ran home to get his telescope.
He wanted humans to see him of course,
But he also wished to see realization dawning on faces on earth all around.
In his panic, on his way, he knocked all decorations down to the ground.
Trying to desperately locate his telescope,
He spent a few too many hours away from his post.
When he finally returned to his folding chair,
Accompanied by his telescope,
The moon was red no more,
And all the humans had gone to sleep,
So he bowed his head and dropped his eyes,
But as he was about to go back to his house in the skies,
He caught, through his telescope, a glimpse of a human,
Dreamily looking at the heavens,
Who had stayed up, even after the eclipse was over,
Because that young human didn’t care that the spectacle had ended,
But loved the sight of the moon all the time.
The man on the moon went to bed joyful that night,
For he had made an earthling friend,
Who would look lovingly at the moon,
Even when it wasn’t red,
Who found the moon wonderful and interesting,
Even in its everyday self.