Dancing on the Face of the Moon

Just this side of midnight, I stepped outside –
an attempt to snag the tail of a summer breeze.
Slowly, a shadow crept over me.
Night turned darker than blackness itself
and I could not see a thing.
I was frightened at first, then I realized
the moon was simply trapped
by obscure clouds.
From the darkened sky, rain began to fall,
blindly tumbling to the ground.
I watched. I waited.
When the moon re-appeared,
I saw puddles on the pavement
and, I swear, they were calling my name!
Joy overtook me and I became a child.
Discarding my shoes, I launched into play,
splashing, prancing, twirling and leaping
from one wet patch to another.
To catch my breath, I slowed to a sway,
and hugged myself with happy arms.
As I bent to and fro, misty moonlight
winked at me
from the raindrops clinging to the trees.
I glanced at my feet and met the moon;
his reflection captured briefly
in the puddle where I danced.
I knelt to touch him,
a caress for the perfect partner he had been;
leading me so aptly
I didn’t even know that he was there.
We smiled at one another, then I stood
and proceeded once again
to dance on the face of the moon.

Linda Powell


About the Poet:
After a career in the accounting field, retirement for  Linda was a chance to pursue her first love: writing. She spent several post-retirement years as a Life Journal writer for hospice patients. While that brought her personal fulfillment, it lacked the outlet for expressing her own unique ideas. She now shares creative writing and photography on her blog https://grammywritesblog.wordpress.com/, and is currently working on a collection of poetry and short stories.



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