Moon Beams

Written 1/3/2009

I needed a topic and I asked mom to toss one out just as the hospital clock clicked past the noon hour. “How about moon beams,” she said. Uninspired but determined I said, “fine.” Just at that moment the morning nurse Andrea, remarkably upbeat with a broad red-lipped smile and a solid dark mane of thick black hair, entered to ask if it was okay if a different nurse took over since they seemed to be over staffed.  The nursing staff had been sleeping over at the hospital because of the  storm and new recruits had snowshoed into work.   A resounding “off with you!” and loose lipped smiles was the most we could muster out.

Are moon beams like Jesus lights? A resonating flow of larger than life light basking about the dark night sky tempered by street lights casting off their temporary scope of the planet. In my mind’s eye they are less practical except as needed by wildlife explorers. Moon beams evoke memories of romance, the natural night light as a means of romantic expression. The tell tale sign of love comes for at least a night, a season, a reason, a spell under which no one wants to be saved. Moon beams hold all of the promise of love without the flighty daylight hours of sunshine, or rain, or appointments, or so on and so forth. The day is for doing, the night for believing in everything that is possible.

“Yes I said moon beams

Does that make you wince

Are your rapid fire rages

The first you’ve had since

We took home the party

We raided the dark

We walked through the trees

At the end of your park.

We’ll I have no sentry

Waiting to loom

And my eyes are filled with the day

You won’t soon forget me

You might wonder why

It’s the moon beams who want it this way.”