Mother Moon

It was so cold I could

see my breath.

With each step

I watched my footing

on the shadowy sidewalk—

crunching leaves as I went.

Suddenly a light

appears in the dark.

I look up expecting

a streetlight

and instead

it is the moon

who has come

to walk me home—

like the mother

who trails seven steps

behind you keeping watch

but letting you think

you are doing It on your own.

 

Along the way

the gardens glow

summer and fall mixed

together: dahlias and

anemone, red and yellow

leaves lit from behind.

 

I find comfort

in her golden presence—

it can feel lonely

to grow up

no matter how

old you are.

 

And as I turn the familiar

corner at the forsythia hedge

—one single blossom open

months ahead of spring—

 

the moon dashes

ahead of me

toward my house—

pausing

just above my neighbor’s roof.

 

Her perfect circle so bright

I am pierced with longing.

I stop

and before I can

hold back tears

she reaches out with

her radiant warmth

and welcomes me home.

 

© 2024 Gretchen L. Schmelzer, PhD