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Chasing the Moon



She didn’t come up softly or silently
Neither did she peer this way or that before
Putting in the appearance
We had been waiting
We thought it would be
A grand entrance
We camped out on mountain tops
We sat around beaches wrapped in towels and blankets
With cameras on tripods
Fiddling with the settings, pacing slowly on
The walls of tidal pools like relatives
In the hallways of maternity hospitals
Waiting
For that perfect moment
We had all received some telling of her coming
Via lunar calendars and social media and
Those who always know everything about everything
Who could be relied upon to be at the right place at the right time
Many were practically astronomers by Great Moonday
But
Most of us weren’t
We were just where we would have been anyway
And then
We all just kind of stopped when it started happening
And we didn’t move again
It was a kind of magic we weren’t expecting
which descended on our bay with a quiet amber balminess
We just stood and waited
Whatever else we were supposed to be doing
would wait
From behind the mountains across the sea
Appeared a crimson glow
Like maybe the Martians were coming
without the Jeff Wayne music
maybe we all heard different music
Maybe for some it was The Eve of the War
Maybe it was Sibelius or Grieg or Beethoven
But something was playing in our minds as we beheld the Great Appearance of the round red queen
There was a party bobbing quietly in the tidal pool waiting for her to arrive
I thought maybe some kind of cosmic healing was going to happen and for a moment I was a bit sorry I had forgotten my bathing costume
But, it was Winter, so I stopped feeling like that and just watched the mountain
Later I heard that there were some who had chased the moon
It had not even occurred to me to chase her
It hadn't occurred to me that she was running anywhere, so I hope they caught up with her because there was enough of her to go around
as she spread her crimsonish liquid across the mountains and the sea
Maybe she traded places with the sun because that was where the sun usually comes out
There was no way to describe the glow
It tasted and smelt like mandarin
and sounded as smooth as a solo sax
Unhurried by the constraints of a time signature
Or the vanity of a single other musician
And not being one of those who knows everything
I don’t even think I should say she was orange
She was fragrant, warm and spicy, like chai
Maybe she tasted like
mulled wine with cinnamon or
Freshly ground coffee beans with a touch of chilli chocolate
The sound of something we had not heard before
But we knew the song because it had played in our hearts since before we were born into our earthly bodies
I just watched as she kind of rolled out from behind the mountain in her fabulous party dress, voluptuous and chilled and fragrant and smooth
Just like that
And I felt warm and happy that I had seen her come


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