Autumn Moon

An incandescent nimbus dresses the pallid disk crowning the autumn sky, its reflection obscuring nearby stars as though the spotlight was hers and hers alone, her night to shine on the galactic stage.

Below her mists part like curtains on the opening night performance of a classic masterpiece and beneath them, her audience stirs restlessly, some asleep but a fortunate few gazing her way, experiencing mysterious trance-like meditative waves, some lost in existential wonder while others wander introspectively among fertile fields of reminiscence and regret.

Below her colors bleed, undressing mountains and valleys, hills and vales, canyons and rivers, sleeping naked in shades of grey ranging from platinum to indigo but for syncopating clusters of glaring neon lights.

Memories of echoes float on wisps of winds, sundered recollections flowing in and out of disjointed dreams following sleeping mothers’ sighs, the eternal music of ocean waves kissing silent shores, rocking to the songs of the four winds.

I stir and glance out of the large bedroom window behind me, a bit more than half asleep, memories of Artemis slowly fading to dark, too ethereal to grasp, fleeing to other spaces comfortably nestled between dreams.
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