Cycles of the Moon

by Tom Hatch   
            

Curved silver sliver up high

But not too far above the trees

Walking at dusk the moon

Calls for the young boy from his mother

To come out of the woods that has chilled the air

For him to come home for supper

Expanded behind the hazy sky

Further up above the trees

Lighter than the night before

The mother serves him dinner

By the fire as he stares out
The window at that growing moon

The scale of reflected light

Is a larger moon again

No relationship to the trees this night

His dog is sleeping soundly

At the foot of his bed as

The moon shines across his more exacting face

Getting bigger is the glow

The aftermath of time

Shows the young man how to be tall

In the shadow of the sharper moon

His thoughts of all mans dreams that are dreamt

Every night and his yet to be lived

The moons brightness is FULL

At the highest point in time

Hardly needing any light

She sits on the porch about his dreams

The kitchen empty full of memories

As his journey uses up his age

Waning tightens up on the phase

The man with his mother’s

Radiance of the moon

In his smile that leaves

Her thoughts of his returning

In the doorway of his life is it fulfilled?

The faded light whiling away her hours

Missing the sapling in the tall grass that became a tree

The moon is closer to the trees again she is staring

Where the woods had been and he had played

Where he was called for supper she calls his name

Again one more time… laughing only the stars come out

The vanished moon is gone from

This night’s sky making her star brighter

Than the night before looking out an ancient window

He has come back home from his and her dreams

To the mother’s voice that called

Him from the woods