Moonlit Hills
The talk of a "murder house"
sends ripples of terror and paranoia
through the car,
as does ouijia boards
and voodoo dolls
and axe murderers.
That fear pushes us further down
the lonely, winding canyon road.
The music playing softly on the radio
slowly assuages our fear
until the next mention
of a "murder house."
Beyond the window of the car,
the midnight moon
lights the face of the canyon
in a silver mask.
The pale form of Luna
dances a ghostly masquerade
of shadow-taken trees
and color-lost grass.
Despite the primal fear
of shadows and shapes in the dark
and axe-wielding murderers
hiding just out of sight,
the moonlight on the hillside
gives a sense of safety, of peace,
as if the moon watches over the Earth
as a midnight guardian
during those dark hours of night.
On the journey home,
an impromptu countdown to 30,000 miles
on the odometer
goes smoother than expected
and excitement sweeps through the car
at the accidental accomplishment.
But the memory of the canyon
still lingers while we enter
the world of street lamps
and neon lights,
and haunts my mind
while sleep creeps into my eyes
as I crawl into the dark safety
of the world of pillows and blankets.
sends ripples of terror and paranoia
through the car,
as does ouijia boards
and voodoo dolls
and axe murderers.
That fear pushes us further down
the lonely, winding canyon road.
The music playing softly on the radio
slowly assuages our fear
until the next mention
of a "murder house."
Beyond the window of the car,
the midnight moon
lights the face of the canyon
in a silver mask.
The pale form of Luna
dances a ghostly masquerade
of shadow-taken trees
and color-lost grass.
Despite the primal fear
of shadows and shapes in the dark
and axe-wielding murderers
hiding just out of sight,
the moonlight on the hillside
gives a sense of safety, of peace,
as if the moon watches over the Earth
as a midnight guardian
during those dark hours of night.
On the journey home,
an impromptu countdown to 30,000 miles
on the odometer
goes smoother than expected
and excitement sweeps through the car
at the accidental accomplishment.
But the memory of the canyon
still lingers while we enter
the world of street lamps
and neon lights,
and haunts my mind
while sleep creeps into my eyes
as I crawl into the dark safety
of the world of pillows and blankets.