Poetry / Lunar Flashbacks

Meandering down a path of disturbed soil,
lined in foxgloves,
cast in nightfall.

My eyes flicked up for the comfort
of a moon from my childhood.

A moon I would watch
from a back seat of a Honda.
While my baby sister slept sound,
with her running drool river
over my shoulder,

peace-filled dreams overtaken the infant,
coaxed by the lullaby of gravel and tires.

Our mother lone in front asking God,
Why it seems only the rhythm of tires and gravel
can accomplish the unachievable.

And now along a dusty lane,
my gaze searching the sky,
for a frequent acquaintance.

But the blinding white
twinkle of a star
is all to welcome my stare.

Scouting desperately, my head whips across
a velvet galactal plain.

But its apparent vacancy
leads my heart to pound
a frantic beat,

Nowhere.

Perhaps…
aiming to prove me foolish
as sometimes his antics lead

My friend may well have
veiled himself
from my gaze.

Spinning in lazy circles I watch,
expecting the moon to be hidden
behind me.

But to no avail
as it seems
this dreary night the moon was
unable to wake from his relaxed slumber,
beneath a blanket
of Ozone.

Sighing in a manner defeated,
I suit myself in
meandering down a path of disturbed soil,
lined in foxgloves
cast in nightfall.

Still allowing one eye to content its fruitless
journey across a star speckled banner,

wandering along
completely unaware

of the large oak tree from which
a friend
stifling a chuckle,
had found himself a hiding space

proving to be highly effective.

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