The moon doesn’t seem to be in the same place at night.
I can’t predict its location from day to day.
I check each evening and am constantly surprised.
Is it me or is there a shift in the orbit of this heavenly body?
Instead of going from east to west
it seems to be doing the boogie woggie across the sky.
Is my head spinning and I’m the one
off balance trying to locate myself in space
in relationship to my changing world?
The sweet smell of normal wafts through my home,
scent of garlic and steaks on the grill,
sounds of garage doors opening… closing…
and neighbors disappearing behind shuttered windows
not even a hello or goodbye.
When did everyone become a stranger?
Sirens get louder, then pass along the highway,
and why can’t I locate that damn moon in the sky?
This poem was inspired by a conversation with my husband, Bill.
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