PAD Day 9: Eclipses, Cereal Boxes, and Solar Toys

Yesterday was an amazing event for many of us in the U.S. - a total eclipse of the sun. I was not in the "totality" region (though various friends of mine were), but in our area we saw a 90% eclipse, which displayed the barest crescent of the sun before returning to normal. Clouds threatened to interfere from time to time, and finally took over just as our view of the eclipse had peaked. but my family and I had good views of the event through our special dark glasses, and when the eclipse was at its height, with the dimming light (not total drakness), dogs and birds started to carry on all over our neighborhood. I wish we had witnessed the full spectable of the corona, but it was still a pretty awesome experience.

 Today's prompts:

WBP: Write a "love" and/or "anti-love" poem.

NPWM: Write an ode celebrating an everyday object.

PSH: "Write a poem that tells a myth story, contains a list and at least one color in it, and has the words 'dearly beloved' as either the title or in the text of the poem." (Rachel Baum)

I combined the second and third prompts for another eclipse-themed poem:

Ode to an Empty Cereal Box

Who knew you would be so important this week,

saved from the recycling bin to help us celebrate

and observe that rare celestial event, a total eclipse 

of our dearly beloved star, the sun?

All we had to do was glue white paper 

to the inside of your bottom, 

then punch two holes in your top, left and right, 

cover the left hole with silver foil, 

punch a pin hole through it, and watch 

through the other hole, our backs to the sun,

as you projected the slowly disappearing disk

to the white wall inside. 

We've come a long way from the mythology,

the many stories of hungry creatures in the sky,

like the Viking wolves Skoll and Hati,

or the Hindu tale of Rahu, who Visnu beheaded

for daring to seek immortality, and who got revenge

when his head rolled through the heavens 

and scarfed down the sun.

We know so much more now, 

making accurate predictions with the latest technology,

and yet we construct a simple camera obscura from you,

who so recently housed Cheerios or Raisin Bran,

so we could watch this miracle without burning our eyes.

So thank you for storing our favorite breakfast foods,

and thank you for helping us see the show.

And here's my "love" poem, in the form of a tanka:

Spring Boogie 

two solar toys
white bunny, yellow chick
dance in April sun
 
their hips swing like pendulums
take my hand, love, let's join them