Moonshot

 

Moonshot

Remember stretching for the tip of the bow

before the pull backward and up again,

legs pumping, toes pointing,

hair aloft, lungs full, the rush of to and fro?

All was possible, a child reaching 

for the slight, light low-lying disc in summer's sky,

swinging, greeting a reflecting moon, midday -

miraculous!

But what about tonight, beneath this silver crescent,

December's coolness upon mature cheeks,

wrapped in darkness but for the glow above

trying to remember the wonder, the trust

I freely offered as youth?

Can't tuck it in pockets or ask it to wait

while I pencil in a date; iPhone's image 

a blurry smudge.  I've forgotten the importance

of immersing myself in the senses, soaking it in,

drinking from the well of this moment -

moonshot.  

Perhaps I'll loop a swing over tree limb,

settle myself come eve, and sway

as light fades and stars glimmer;

let moon become my friend again.

By Margaret Bednar, December 4, 2020

This is linked with "Poets & Storytellers United - Weekly Scribblings #48 - Words of an Unprecedented Year".    It's been a while since I have been able to sit down and write poetry - no poems in November! (I feel so out of practice - I was intimidated!) and I'm excited to visit all my fellow poet friends...  I"ve missed you.   The word I chose ... Moonshot.  What a gorgeous word.