A new red moon is our own super moon
With pancake face, half burnt and ruddy
Already worried about the three jasmines
In my pocket,laughing their fragrance off.
Last time around she had turned jasmine
When she was close by 285 miles from us
From earth mother of jasmine sweetness
Almost smelling like jasmines in a pocket.
This time around camera saw her naked
And cloudless for a while over the ladder
Amid clothes hanging ,with own moons.
Another looked broke on the water tank
A dot in a flash of darkness, halos gone.
We want halos back of a likely rain hope.