Tonight’s eclipse reminds me of an old poem about the man on the moon. All of us of a certain age know well that there is such a fellow because we grew up hearing about him. Not only that, we also knew, long before these scientist folks began probing around, that the moon is made of cheese. We could have saved NASA a lot of trouble and money if they had asked us. Knowing what we know, on a night when the moon goes dark, we worry about the poor guy up there. Here’s why.
THE MAN ON THE MOON The man on the moon Eats nothings but cheese, There’s nothing but cheese to eat, Though often he cries To the cheddar skies, “I’m dying for some little treat! “I dream of chicken salad,” He sighs, “On slices of fresh whole-wheat, And I yearn for yams, Sugar cured hams, And anything gooey and sweet.” But the man on the moon Has nothing but cheese So cheese is all he can eat, But oh how he wishes For tastier dishes Like salads and veggies and meat. ~ © 2007 David L. Harrison, all rights reserved