Blood Moon - Oct 20 2021

 

Blood Moon

Oct 20 2021

The two lane road

leading up to the lake

has been newly paved.

So the asphalt's still black

white lines immaculate.

But with the same tight curves

that seem to serve no purpose,

and make me think of a drunk surveyor

or contractor padding his bill;

blind turns

where skittish deer may lurk

in this furious season

of rutting lust.

And the same narrow gravel shoulders

where a tire can lose its grip,

spraying shrapnel

or spinning off

into the dark wall of trees.

But in the splendid solitude of 4 am

I drive on the edge of control.

The headlights

cutting a wedge through the night,

and my speed increasing

as if I'm in its spell,

unblinking gaze

fixed firmly ahead

as the blacktop smoothly unscrolls.

The American myth of the open road

is the wind in your hair

and freedom to roam.

And how much more intoxicating

to have it to myself.

Where, in the uncanny stillness

it feels as if time has stopped

the world is on hold.

And tonight

in he moon's ghostly light

the trees look bewitched,

shadows sharply etched

needles silver green.

October's full moon,

named for the Hunter

as well as for Blood.

I drive,

winding downhill

until I cross the town-line

and enter its well-lit streets.

Past traffic lights,

their signals dutifully cycling

though no one's there to see.

So quiet, I can hear the loud clicking

as they go from yellow to red

and back again to green.

But I am on the road, and free,

ignoring the red

and racing through the greens,

high on the thrill

of reckless defiance.

Driving at will

through still-life streets

as the city sleeps unaware.

My alternate title was Open Road. But who can resist turning to a poem with the evocative tease of Blood Moon?!!

I've been doing this all month, driving in so late it's almost early. It's intoxicating, having the road to myself. And even though I know I need to be vigilant for deer, I keep finding myself driving too fast. I'm surprised when I encounter other cars. I drive through the city streets as if no one is watching and I have them to myself. The pleasure of the drive makes up for the inconvenience of the hour.