The Lost Eclipse

(On the eve of a Solar Eclipse, I try to find the hill from which I watched a Lunar Eclipse, forty-eight years ago.) I am driving in West St. Paul with a purpose driving me: to find the height in then Heights that seems to be leveled, or sunk in the ground, or is just hiding from me in an eclipse of my vision. How much longer will I search? Yes, this is the fabled hill from which I watched the eclipse of the Moon by the Earth, which turned the Moon a strange red. No longer the pale, slender White Goddess, the Red Moon swaggered like one who had just won power she intended to use. I'm still driving all these years later, but I'm running out of gas. Soon I will run out of drive and come to a full stop. Then the delights if walking will take over, and I will slowly pass sites of another age, but still that lofty red color of the Moon tugs my memory, and beckons me to further sights and deeper memories. Does it matter my life is now a valley life in terms of vision? Soon I will see the Sun eclipsed, and darkness will possess the light, and it will usher a new age of glory to remember.