Moon Shadow

It’s not quite right

‘moon shadow’

but I can’t erase it

Cat Stevens is just

too loud in my memory

But as I gaze upon the 

moon-lit sky last night

and move my gaze

from sky to land

lit so bright I could 

make my way by foot

across these fields

where hay rolls lay

indolent in the night

and see trees huddling

together pretending

impenetrability 

smiling into their

leafy hands at what

my eyes cannot see

moonlight or no

and notice the one

tree too slow or too

fiercely independent

to grow where others

are so firmly entrenched

and see its shadow cast

long across the field

longer than any day-light

shadow could hope to reach

I want to leave the cocoon

of the car and the talk of the

bridge game we old ladies

have just played and jump

into the field and dance

my own moon shadow

dance – a memorial to the 

girl who listened to Cat

Stevens with little thought

of the moon and its shadows

so long ago and so near to here

I want to, but I do not

for the other old ladies

always tenderly caring,

wait patiently to see me

safely into my house from

the safety of the car cocoon

and taking my time to dance

the moon light is to steal

her time and I cannot