Full Moon in Pisces

The day dawns with soft rain cleaning up what is left behind,
Boots, wood, mistakes wash down the back river way.
Looking through mist, I can just make out the person that I have been
Maybe will be, after this is all over or the animal bones have found a place to rest.
Sudden insight comes steadily, the voices, the places and the scent worn from years of wondering.
I see you on the side of a bridge, eyes squint in the sunlight just before you fall backwards toward the water.
There is another sound. I hear all of the people crowded on the grass as music drifts over our heads
Smiles that smell like beer and wanting
Beat, beat, beat like the beater bar on the looms that sailed under my feet as I learned a way to create through wool, plants and markets filled with vegetables in baskets.
Roses show up in brown paper, you know where they came from
Penciled notes etched on the inside telling you how to navigate the world of hearts.
Stephan Grapelli’s violin couldn’t even keep me awake after a day of picking apples in an orchard heavy with the noise of bees. You smiled, knowing that flowers don’t always make a difference.
It’s the moments when you’re on the back roads at 2 a.m. , a van filled with musicians is pushing your car down the road, pop clutching it all the way laughing. Blue overalls baggy and tied up with a piece of string in the middle of your back.
It is the days, the nights that come randomly flooding back as I walk the compost bucket out to the back pile in the woods. Maybe a bear will hear me smile. Maybe a bear will make me stop or want to run. Slowly back away, “Hey, Bear…”.