The day of the solar eclipse our 4th grade class
made pinhole cameras from Pringles cans.
Miss Smith warned us to use the tube as our eye:
Your retina is delicate, fragile;
if you look at the sun, it will blind you forever!
 
But how was this possible—the sun
that polished the rungs of the jungle gym,
touched down on the hopscotch squares,
the butterscotch bowl, and the windowsill
where potatoes sprouted in glass?
 
When she told us a new century would come
before we’d ever witness such a sight,
I shivered, though it was May, with lilacs
blooming in my crayon drawings, the sun
stationed safely at the top of every page.