Moon Dream

MoonDream Circa 1992 Current mood: betrayed
By Barbara E. Meyer 1992
aka: Barbara E. Meyer-Spidell
MoonDream

The Moon Rose like a flower blossoming, like an infant walking, like the new day starting.
The Moon Rose like a Mother yelling, a dream dispelling, a story’s retelling, the old fable starting, and the moonlike rose unfolding.
The Moon rose like the people inhabiting, the old folks hobbling, the wagon wheel wobbling, the children sqabbling, and still the moon rose.
The dream lived like the rapid rain quenching a tall forest and drenching the leaves with the dew filling shadows.
The dream lived like a man calling into the forest, on a water laden evening from the wooden porch, both leaking and seeping.
The dream lived like an inkeeper sweeping, a lost child weeping, the bullfrogs leaping, the sheepshearers sleeping, withered brown hands weaving, teenagers deceiving, wives disbelieving, and still the fat old moon still rose.
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