Monday April 8, 2024 dawned with the disappointing realization that we would not be seeing the total eclipse after all. But weather in Rochester, New York, south of Lake Ontario and Lake Huron, and east of Lake Erie, is infamously cloudy and rainy, so making a Plan B can become second nature.
Having learned of other things to be aware of in a total eclipse that are normally unnoticed, we went to an open plain south in the Finger Lakes to experience it as well we could, and to observe and the normally unnoticed. I didn’t realize how much incidental stuff most people miss.
It was quite moving and perhaps this effort at poetic prose may somehow capture a little of that afternoon.
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The eclipse had been nearing totality, and all that had life and breath felt the unseen approach.
Among the trees in the marshland
Redwing Blackbirds fussed and settled.
A dozen crows hawk-chasing
ceased pursuit as one,
the pursued silently also
roosting, not too distant.
Geese came in for a landing.
Spring Peepers’ songs died away.
Through flat clouds unmarred by rain or gaps
the Moon’s shadow brought the gloaming.
The air cooled nearly 10 degrees,
the breeze becalmed to stillness.
Its intangible squall line seemed to quicken,
racing inexorably across the plain.
Then, it pounced! Engulfing all
in surreal midday midnight,
rapidly snuffing sunlight
from horizon to horizon.
Awe was almost palpable.
Unable to truly capture
the dark ineffable minutes,
many still tried.
Then on the western horizon,
a wide sliver of light peeped.
In fleeting minutes, gone too soon,
we were astonishingly… uncovered!
With breathtaking speed,
darkness rolled away, light returned,
Day swiftly resumed,
while Moon’s shadow-storm raced eastward.
Watching its fleet shadowy retreat
with its evanescent experience,
longing to travel with it,
we spoke and realization dawned;
those minutes of shadowed light
had quietly birthed eclipse chasers.