Make a hole, Dad.
A pinhole.
Here’s a pin.
Here’s paper.
Poke it through.
Now let’s go outside,
lay this other paper
on the ground,
then focus the image.
Wait! The pinhole’s too small.
Get a stick.
Poke it bigger.
No, the edges aren’t perfect,
we can’t tell what we’re seeing,
the hole’s too ragged,
too many maybe crescents.
We need a hole-punch,
don’t have one.
Get the colander.
There, that’s better,
lots of little
partial eclipses
on the sidewalk,
would be clearer
if we tilt the sidewalk up.
Well, we tried.
There are eclipses all the time,
you just have to go to them.
Maybe next time,
wait a few years,
we’ll drive closer
for a better angle
and use the glasses.

At least we won’t
like a former ex-President
follow the bad example
tilt the head back
and look directly at the sun.

Of course we remember
those years ago
driving to Oregon
to enter the path
we wore the glasses
as the whole sky went dark
the bees stopped buzzing
the birds came down
the world fell asleep
as we Connecticut Yankees
watched the sky return
but the bees stayed asleep.