Scythe Moon

On nights such as this

following on the still hot heels of a day as long and drawn as my tired self

there it is hanging low and bright in the dark western sky

the scythe moon, sharp as any blade

slicing through the artifice and

drawing back the veil to separate

my mind's

wheat from the chaff

calling out my name

pulling me to presence

so I respond in kind

stand there like a fool

my heart sleeve caught on its crisp- edged tip

afraid to move for I know the tear it will cause in me means the numbing will return

so I breathe deep the falling, night- chilled air

stay put and imagine myself nestled, legs dangling from its sweet tipped backwards "C”

and remember the strange wonder of the scythe my dad had hanging over the freezer in our basement laundry room when I was growing up

and the time

us kids watched him take it to the long grasses where the burdock that got caught in my best friend’s dark braids one summer day, thrived

we knew to stand back from the long reach of the blade as it swept across the wildness near at hand

and if I remember right

he only ever did it that one time--

my mind swings again like my father’s reach and

I'm a young mother, my children are small and freshly scrubbed and we are watching a video of a night-capped Ernie in his pj's sweetly singing "Well, I'd like to visit the moon..."

Jesus—where does time go

now forty-eight, I am standing in my driveway almost crying and supper is yet to be had and there are chores to be done and

my children are almost all grown up and my father, though seventy five, could somehow still swing a scythe like forty years ago

but me,

me,

I am lost

and sometimes on nights like this one it takes the moon to find me again

standing, freezing cold and grateful for the razor’s edge,

for the truth- parsing beauty of the wandering moon across my heart's dark sky.

I am alive still and there is a crescent moon hanging low to take my breath away.

Jill

Pair this with The Moon's the North Wind's Cooky

ps.

I offer a deep bow of gratitude that there is such beauty in this world so rife with sorrow.

Hoping you find yours...

Thanks for reading!

Be well!