Cloud Cast Moon
There is a cloud cast moon thirty years old. Still the light shifts the shadows from time to time and I find the purple mountains, the wild redbud across the hills I knew so well. In the moon of memory you appear, old friend, bright skin, eyes laughing, singing suzaphone lines as you turn and twirl down the road. I will always love you, you said, our futures pulling us away from the strawberries in your backyard, long past the long drives in the long black '57 Ford under the diamond stars of the north. You left, then I left, and now when I return a white moon waits. A warm wind carries the stars across the old deep river, carries the full deep pink of redbud across the constant hills. I stand so still, listening, as the blossoms are blown and then laid down, the petals scattered in my heart.