MARC IMLAY

Full moon rising
through the conifer forest
tinting the misty fog
rosy tangerine
before showing her face.

Then peeking in and out
between the trees
as if shy
or luring my attention.

Valley treetops make a ‘V’ shaped chalice
through which the moon is birthed.
Rising behind the trees
that cast their shadows into the mist
in front of them
making their shadows look
like fuzzy 3-D shadow puppets.

Emerging from the chalice
the moon effuses an aura
fainter than itself
but 5 times its diameter
at the center.

I notice her beautiful face
never looking at me directly
always gazing 30 degrees to my left.
Leon Hendrix once told me
“The moon is a beautiful woman
far beyond your reach

who draws your attention
up from the earth
into the heavens
and to all beyond her.”
A transformative catalyst?

That old familiar feeling
awakens and is recognized
indescribable
but that’s never stopped me before.
Relief from daytime parameters
dangerous peaceful mystery
benevolent wizardry
graceful delirium
beckoning possibility
primeval honesty
cautious lunacy
peering out from
the border of the “sanity”
of social conditioning.

Falling asleep
under her influence
I pray to myself
oh, don’t let me forget this yet again
knowing full well
it will elude me with the sunrise
except for that haunting sense
that draws me out to see the moon
without knowing why.

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