Evening, 1969 (Poem)

It was almost dark, and I was alone.

The moon waited to rise, sunken in the swampy waters just beyond.

It would be bigger than the sun, orange-red,

But send no fiery heat to blister the tarmac.

I wanted to stop on the edge of the gravel road,

To watch this happen, but had no time.

My skin throbbed as I walked, and I wondered

What would happen if I raised my head in supplication.

Would the night heal what the day had wounded?

I wanted to stop but had no time.

I still remember the crunch and slide of the gravel underneath my feet,

The whirr and click of crickets, and the weight of the damp dusk

As it fell, far too heavy and far too fast, upon my hurrying back.

Eight years old, alone.

I wanted to stop but had no time.