Moon in my YardPosted: April 1, 2010
The orange moon will be coming up in the front yard. I’m out back, for now. It’s periwinkle dusk, a time when the whole world hangs in stillness. The sun has long gone down, one lone bird sings a last chorus, and a coolness is settling around.
I’m sitting in front of the chimenea on the patio. I’ve built a fire. I can’t build fires. For two years I’ve had the same wood in the pottery fireplace and every few months, I’ll try to adjust it and restart. Doesn’t work. This fire is nice. I started with newspaper, added a few small twigs, then a couple of logs. It blazes.
Heat sinks into my face. I look closely at flickering blue dancing atop a log, glowing orange inside the wood, and yellow silk fingering upwards in a rush, hurry, burn, hurry. What was once a living thing is charred, gray, powdered ash. I cry, and my tears are warm.
Above, the first star appears. Then another, and now many show up at once. I want to stay right here, sleep outside under these stars, under this sky, under the trees, because in a few days, leaves will cover it all up. I want to hold this moment before another change takes it away from me. By the time that big orange moon gets to the backyard, it will be high and out of my reach.