The call ... Away from camp to head,
newly laid snow under foot to tread.
The bright full moon shows me the way,
luring me though a ribbon of grey.
On my right is a mountainous hillside;
left, stream-like river -now torrent resides.
Yet cottony carpet, mutes nature's proximity,
letting ears acknowledge steps-destroying virginity.
As if in a spectral city, the trees form a crowd,
but atmosphere, not pollution -moon resists shroud.
Like being avoided by the anonymous faces,
the skeleton-like trees, refuse to shed graces.
The mystical and romantic illumination does glow;
my bewildering thought, I can't mistake...
"You're headed off to a show."
Funny how my brain responds to the alerting chime,
I seat myself amongst the trees, swaddle in icy down...
Just in time.
The depth of the moon cuts though haze,
dark clouds turn the orb into an eye of God gaze.
Just behind the side curtain is every woman who rejected me,
once again to dazzle me with their soul-less soliloquy.
One by one, born of a good wish, honest desire;
upon knee my sincerest of intention.
They dramatically scream from their protests,
accusations and paranoid inventions.
In their spat of harsh carelessness, even trees shutter and shake;
but the limelight from Heaven is warm comfort for me to sate.
Yet I acted with forethought, and still in afterthought...
I know I did what was right.
Not for myself, but for them I felt sad,
as I wished we could have shared this sight!
The curtain falls with cutting crystalline wind across my face,
it is time to return to camp for fire's warm embrace.
The scene I saw will never be witnessed again for me to see,
yet from time to time, with new actresses it reenters me.
Still, the same feelings in me will always insist;
despite soul-less soliloquies that will persist.
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Author Notes
Thank you snickersnax for your October Moon. I wished I had captured the scene of the clouded moon over the swollen river with the trees all around, it was beautiful and worth the hike. I just had an inclination to take off and head that way.
After the experience, the imagery as well as the feeling forever remained in my mind. It was after reading Cheyennwy's poem, "Broken Moon," that relayed a similar experience, but with a much more sadder, lamentable outcome. I mentioned the emotions that I experienced and she encouraged me to write about it. It took about a week, before I got imagery, emotions and the experience I wanted to relate written into this form.
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