I found it a real struggle to write about the sun, moon and stars. You may find the little rhymes very forced and didactic. The first and last poems in this set were written later, more freely and more fun. Nonetheless, I haven't discarded the formal verses: their messages are valuable.

DAY FOUR : REGULATION!

It’s regulations day:
Light can’t flick on and off without a reason.
Let’s get the wiring right
To mark each day and year and month and season.

Day Two, we underpinned, and fixed the sky;
Day Three, the garden;
Now it’s time to get the designers in.
Let’s get a move on!

Lamps, and colourschemes; patterns of stars
To make sense of the sky!
“I want a homely effect, without losing the feeling of space.”
“That’s quite a good try.”

And did one opt for green, and tranquillity?
But some of the team insisted on red and gold?
And were allowed to do autumn: “so long as it’s quick!”
Then a complete strip-down:
-- “Nakedness is so truthful!” –
Till the restart after the cold.

Then, the paperwork,
When all has settled down and found its place.
“Now counting can really begin!”
“And soon we’ll have a wondering, measuring, calculating, organising, re-decorating, human race.”

DAY AND NIGHT

The patient in and out of day and night:
A time for work and play, a time for sleep,
A time for spaces, freedom, colours bright,
A time for cosy closeness, quiet, deep.

“Where does the day go?” The wondering child
Knows they have passed, like pages of a book
Turned over and finished, stored perhaps in a pile
To be used again, when we know where to look.

“Why does the night come?” Already the little one knows
That light won’t last forever; day returns;
But night brings an end to action. Silence grows:
A world calmed down, switched off. Inaction burns.

But: action and inaction, step by step,
We build our lives, and slowly climb their peak.
Question by following question, we unwrap
This gift, our world; stretching by the answers we seek.

INTO FOCUS: THE SUN

Living by the pattern of day and night,
Gradually we make the pieces fit,
Recognising: What is the source of light?
We get things into focus bit by bit.

The sun seemed like an extra, only for bright days,
Pegged in the sky like a Christmas bauble;
Left in the cupboard during rain or haze.
No part to play if the weather is troubled;

Learning, it’s always there, even when hidden
Behind the clouds: the sun is the source of day!
All our light and energy, returning unbidden.
Morning till evening, shining on work and play;

Light can reach us, even through cloud and rain.
Love can touch us, even through grief and pain.

LUNAR EXPLORATION

Inconstancy the question first provokes:
The fickle moon: why sometimes? Where does it go?
Full beam, silvering the night with gleaming spokes,
Or slim, or vanished, blackness and dim starglow.

Painted by poets in sweeps of silver and black,
Serene and delicate world of the mirroring moon;
Magic so brief, before the dark floods back,
Light so ethereal, romantic, vanishing soon.

Wondering humans count the full moonlit nights;
The fading, the dark nights, new sliver, fattening again;
Recognise a trusty pattern in the varying lights:
Gradual, reliable, retiring, returning again.

No moon: no moonlight! Science takes first steps
Looking for answers, coupling cause and effect;
Calculate, anticipate; the long journey to partnership;
Harnessing creation; superstition becomes respect.

Poets and scientists both owe duty –
Silver coin tribute – to the moon’s changing beauty.

WIFELY ADVICE: the Moon speaks
(overheard shortly before 11 Aug 1999)

“Yes, dear, I know,
You shine on them all the time,
Day in,
Day out,
And never a word of gratitude;
Year in,
Year out,
Utterly reliable,
And nobody takes a bit of notice.

Now, if you threw a monthly,
Like I do,
There’d be all sorts of fuss;
Or if your light were gentler,
-- Oh no, I’m not criticising!
Oh, I know, it’s natural to be strong!
Yes, I know,
That’s what they take for granted,
Whereas I’m so weak, they think it’s poetic.
-- All sorts of drivel they write!

So if you just let me get in front of you,
Just for two minutes,
Not very often,
Then they’ll make a fuss,
-- No, it’s not me they’ll be fussing about.

They might even put you on the telly!”

-- Solar eclipse, over Cornwall 11.11.am