Movement, Slowly

The moon got caught this morning
between a chimney and angled roofline,
wedged tight from my kitchen window.
As i filled my coffee pot,
I could see the motion of the moon,
sinking to the right, the gauge
of angles fitting so close
that the movement of the moon
was actually perceptible.
Long ago in German class, the shadow
of the sun and window across
the floor before me, and
the slowness of time
conjugating verbs
meant i realized that i could see
the movement of the sun
(if not by looking right at it).
It's a funny thing, because i knew
that the heavens turn,
or rather the earth,
but either way the sun did not stay still.
I knew this, but i did not
Know It.
And then i did, slowing myself down
(with the help of those verbs)
to feel the motion of something so slow.
I've watched many sunrises and sunsets
since then, and caught the motion
of the skies at work, steady and sure;
more strangely, i've watched moonrises
and seen it rise further,
looking more directly and safely.
But moonsets never that I can recall
across some fifty years, until this am.
There is an insightful thrill
even still
to actually perceive that motion from the sky,
to see the slowness,
and realize their speed has been and is and shall be
so the only thing slowing down
is me . . .
and it's about time.