In just three lines, this haiku-like poem ties a rare sky event to a lifetime of memory. A moon in eclipse often glows a dull, coppery red, and the speaker calls that glow an "ember," a small coal still burning after the fire has died down. What strikes the speaker is that this is not a new sight. The ember seems familiar, and with it comes a rush of every place where the speaker has stood and watched the same thing.
The line "I remember every place" is quietly surprising. The eclipse is happening in one spot, yet it pulls many locations together, as if the same moon were a thread running through the speaker's life. The feeling is tender and a little wistful, but also calm. There is wonder in the image, and a sense of time passing, since the speaker has seen this ember again and again. The mood is hushed, reflective, and close to awe, which suits the poem's brevity.