In the twilight of mid-October
a sacredness seems to linger
over the land and the city.
As we drive to Trader Joe’s,
the sun is setting in the west,
and in the east the Hunter’s Moon rises
like an ancient god over the horizon.
As it’s great face looms,
full and orange, in the dusk
we become pensive.
Outside the little market
pumpkins are piled in bins,
and bright yellow marigolds
and sienna chrysanthemums,
line the sidewalks.
As people shop the moon turns to golden
and rises higher into the night.
It sends a resonance over the land
that enters the body like a gentle current.
In the store we buy bread and cheese
and cherry tomatoes.
When we leave, the moon
looks down upon us,
and follows as we drive home.
It sails through the dark silhouettes of trees
and through lighted clouds
as if it has a message yet to impart--
a message of time, beauty,
and the coming of winter.