Harvest Moon

The idea was to take the sidewalk to the end of the street. The kind of evening that feels contemplative, solitary and contented. As my feet travel one step and another a sudden calm fills the air. Awakening to the wonders of nature. It is crisp, yet warm. A perfect late summer evening. The song of the cicada, the bark of the dog.

A road sign, “The Road Narrows.” The phrase lands within my awareness. The wide endless path is beginning to narrow into focus. A metaphor for my life.

All of my senses become keen, subtle and sharp.

Taillights.

A new path appears. Narrow, mysterious, and enchanting. My full body responds with delight. Stepping from concrete to gravel, a sparse strip of grass blazing down the center indicating few frequent this road. My presence is welcome here.

The sweet smell of juniper and moon flower caress the passages of my nose, a white picket fence amid a row of tall green pine, a flash of the fae before my eyes.

A speck of stardust on this big green earth am I, submitting to its magic, eyes filled with softness and love. The moon hangs low, enveloped with pinks, peaches and gold like tulle draped over a lampshade in the sky.

Harkened by the words “When you write for yourself, it matters not if seen by other eyes.

I call this ode to the death of social media.

Goodbye.

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