slipping away

Old moon's on point of getting overrun;
Her orbit's nothing like our spinning pace.
She's barely up when bleached out by the Sun;
We strain to glimpse her unillumined face.
A generation dazzled by bright lights
buys smart-phone apps to track elapsing days.
What had been patent any starry night,
now lies obscured in urban photo-haze.
Celestial clock displays both time, and date,
for those with opportunity to look.
Precise enough that one could navigate;
the heavens were sea-Captain's open book.
One's free to question if it's worth the cost
when so much had been gained, and so much lost.