October Moon



The rumble of engines echoed off the hillsides in the dusk as they arrived one at a time

A shiny new Jeep

A silver SUV

A dusty old Buick Roadmaster

The Subaru and the Bultaco got there together, last to arrive

They each took their places on large stones arranged in a circle and passed a bottle around, watching the moon, not speaking at all

Old friends, unafraid of silence

When it was dark enough, they rose as one; let down their grey hair, and began discarding their clothes

They availed themselves of one last pull on the bottle each before picking their way up to the top of the ridge where they danced in the light of the full Autumn moon

Silently

Each hearing her own music; until after awhile, just like they arrived

One at a time, they would stop

And singly, walk down from the ridge, collecting clothes and deciding to either put them back on, or toss them in the backseat before driving away

Back to their husbands and wives; their children and grandchildren

Back to their houses, their kitchens; and their jobs at the market, the clinic, or the roadhouse

A cloud of dust trailing behind, they each left slowly with

Yellow spears of light leading the way, helping them navigate the path through the desert, and back to the highway.

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