Two nights ago, I witnessed the most marvelous moonrise I had ever seen.
The moon was one sliver shy of full, which only added to the rarity of the experience.
I was driving at the time, and couldn’t stop to admire the moon or photograph it. I could only keep driving and keep marveling.
What I loved most about the whole experience, was the surprise in that first moment I glimpsed the moon.
I wrote this poem today. I hope you like it.
P.S. The photo after the poem was taken last night (by me), the day after the Surprise Moon. Because the moon rises about one hour later each night, last night’s moon rose in the dark. Still spectacular, still surprising.
Driving a tangle of highways
through the slightly scary
my car rises up on one of the many
roadways over roadways,
in a clearing of sorts,
just enough for the pastel blue sky to deliver
on a silver platter of factory rooftops
a gigantic luminous moon
a peach from God’s basket
that should have fallen
on an evergreen mountain in Maine
not here, not at sixty miles an hour
on a potholed road.
I shout with glee,
things I cannot remember,
half sentences, a child overtaken
Nowhere to stop and pull over and marvel,
I keep driving, heading deeper
into the knotted roadways of the cities
that line the Hudson River,
stopping and squeezing and inching
which is the oddest of gifts,
offering me vignette after vignette
of the urban moon,
peeking around a warehouse,
sitting like a jewel above a rowhouse,
and wedged between these lofts and those.
Never has a moon been set
this large, this orange
against a sky
this clear, this bright.
As I wind down the final cliff,
the moon hovers
like a cantaloupe-colored spaceship
over the spires of Manhattan
gilded by the sun just setting behind me.
Seatbelted in awe,
I wonder, who should I tell?
Who would care this much?
And then I wonder,
who might care about me
this much, enough
to orchestrate an errand in urban traffic,
just so I could be surprised.
Here’s the moon through my camera, last night, the day after the Surprise Moon…