THE OLD MANGO MOON

  Cyril Paul, 1999

Down the highway we hurried

Glaring of tail lights trailing curving caravan

Hurrying amidst fields of wheat and barley

Stretching across a Midwestern skyline;

Dashing through blossoming cornfields tasseled;

Swinging and dancing, sensing harvest time.

The darkness dim and dingy

Like a worn out canvas canopies the sky

While consuming the dimming sky light

And creeps ever so slowly over the setting sun.

There! There she is.  The old rusty moon.

Hanging like a peg of orange paling mango

Peering through the sequoia and the sumac

Over my shoulder, circling and dancing in the mist.

The flames from some distant oilfield, I thought.

Glancing away, riveted my sights on the highway

As we roll ahead, twisting and turning

Through a puzzle of orange and white construction

Like a nervous hurdler hustling over

A planned field of configurations, obstructions

As quickly as she slipped away

Just as suddenly, shining brighter than before she reappeared

This time on the top left corner of my windshield

Calling to me, watching me, whispering to me as she did

So many years before on the green tropical island.

Together we raced on the warm sandy beaches

As the gentle, soft surf scattered her golden strands

Into small clusters of light beams

On the sea’s surface, shimmering a trail tarries,

Heading far beyond tomorrow the horizon guarding her gateway

While the quiet Northeast brushed her sweet salt scented

Air into the moonlight and our lips.

In the midst of this serenity and tranquility

It was at those times she shared her stories

It was then my dreams opened hope’s doors

Of travel and a journey beyond the blue mountains

And this little boy alone on the beach

Drawn with delight, filled with yearning

With the shared stories of moon beams

As we neared Champaign, Lady Moon vanished

The lights of the city cancelled my vision

Leaving us alone on our night travel

The neon lights gesturing ahead jolted my senses

My companion lost, my composure altered.

I felt sad, slowly sleep crept into my tired eyes.