The Moon Observes
Spinning, spinning, spinning. The earth spins in a second, and the moon beholds the earth’s wonders. The moon stretches her light down, down, through the clouds to a quiet, cozy street. She admires the maple tree dressed in a royal cloak of rust, copper and cranberry. His leaves shiver in the cool breeze.
The air carries the scent of wood smoke and cider, the sound of creaking and the sound of chatter. The moon starts to follow the wind, but stops. Her eye catches on a young man and a young woman who slowly sway back and forth on a porch swing at the maple tree’s house.
It is the young woman who is speaking. “I miss you when you go away.”
He answers, “I miss you too.”
He smiles. “Of course I do. I miss wrapping you up in my arms. I miss your company. What do you miss about me?”
The young woman stares intently at the mug she is holding and quietly responds, “I miss your smell. But I don’t miss your mood swings.”
“I’m moody?” He tries to hide a smile.
“Yes. I never know, sometimes, if you’ll be hot or cold on me[SB1] . Sometimes we’ll be talking and suddenly you retreat to your own world.”
In mock hurt he says, “But I thought you loved me?”
“Of course I love you, you goof, but you can be frustrating.” She looks at the young man. “Come back to me.”
“I’ll be back from Afghanistan for a visit in April.”
“Come back to me.”
“If I don’t, I’m sure you’ll find solace with Jeff.”
The young woman turns her attention back to her mug.
“I’m sorry. Cheap shot. I’m scared I may not get back to you.”
“You’ll come back.”
The young man stands and places his mug on the porch. He does the same with the young woman’s mug, and holding out his hand, begs her to stand. He leads her off the porch and shyly she follows. Wrapping her up in his arms, he pulls her closer to him – her left hand resting on his shoulder, her right hand tucked into his left. Holding onto her waist, he begins their turn.[SB2]
Spinning, spinning, spinning. The wind breathes a little harder, and the man pulls the young woman closer. She giggles. She’s stepped on his foot. The young man grins down at the woman. She nuzzles her nose into his chest. The couple spins slowly crunching the leaves that have escaped from the maple tree.
The night wears on, and the moon must carry on with it. And the scents and the sounds and the wind become fainter as the moon retracts her light up and up back through the clouds. She watches the earth spin, spin, spin.