On the bare hill behind me
and backlit by the shimmering silvery moon
the moon cow fairly dances
bathed in the cold light of it
not aware of the shadowy curtian
that cuts across her night
or is she?
in awe of the sight of her dance, I alone suspect
her jump is emanating from some distant childhood delight
much like the gingerbread man and others
I stand there shivering in the cold light of the scene
and and watch the dance
jump... jump... I cry out
a foolish old man casts off his chains of silence
and once again reaches out to touch a dream
a fantasy long forgotten
the moon cow lowers her head and in slow motion
begins her run
kicking up dirt and rocks in her wake
jump...jump.. i repeat the chant
in one fantastic leap she hurls herself through space
carried aloft by a swirling tornado of brilliant stars
and lands somewhere on the other side
out of sight
I return to my bed
and my dreams
© 2008 James Bloomfield
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