HER MAJESTY THE MOON

 

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Image by Peter Kraayvanger

 

Back in the saddle again.

It’s back-to-school time. 

You know what that means.

So long, August.

Can’t say we’re sorry to see you go.

Although it’s been memorable.

Hotter than a $2 pistol is what it’s been.

1925 holds the record.

And they can have it.

Bring on Autumn.

Let the leaves begin.

Begin to turn and fall.

And cool down these 100-degree days.

Ah, Nature.

What an equalizer.

We’re all hot.

Every single dang one of us.

Weather plays no favorites.

We all share in it.

We all breathe the same air.

We all feel the same heat.

And enjoy the same cool mornings.

We watch the same moon.

Getting fuller and fuller.

The evening star beside it.

Ever attentive.

Like a lady-in-waiting.

The moon, full up, hangs in the tree.

Hiding in the branches.

And gleefully bright when you find it.

Lighting up the road—

No matter who travels down it.

Filling our rooms with its glow.

Decorating the river with its reflection.

Moonlight.

A light like no other.

Songs have been written about it.

We watch as it wanes.

There she goes.

Our one and only Moon.

Bowing out from the boughs.

Heading silently back east.

Slowly diminishing into a silvery sliver—

To be swallowed by the sun.

And the evening star, forever loyal, goes down with her.

All this, and more, we share.

The dawn of a new day.

And another beginning. 

And a new season.

Welcome September!

That’s Mason.

Read more poetry!

Renee Walker is a poet, writer, and real estate broker on the Square with her canine assistant, Buster.  

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