By the Light of the Moon
       

                I.
At sixteen
sneaking after curfew
I'd step over
the creaking third step
on the stairwell,
slowly creeping
toward the backdoor,
boyfriend waiting
in his car
down our gravel road,
engine purring
taillights gleaming,
he'd bring wet bottles
of Coca Cola

                II.
News trickled in . . .
A war in Vietnam
he phoned one night
from Fort Benning,
shipping out
next morning,
thought we should
get married,
voice trembling
scared and lonely

I said we'd talk
when he got back
never dreaming
his final flight
in a body bag

                III.
Now, decades later
I check the night sky
before going inside,
Orion, Pleiades,
Cassiopia,
the Universe in order

Hours later,
the moon appears,
arriving late in earth's
spinning orbit,
waking me
through an open window,
beaconing.

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Copyright © 2021 Peg Quinn All rights reserved
from Mother Lode
Gunpowder Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission