the radio warned of storm, and how ppl are not advised to approach trees, and how everyone should watch out and all that.
i talked to the great old birch-tree at the bus stop, and he seemed to be unperturbed, either by the radio, or by the rising wind.
and the moon was right rising, just above the line of treetops. the moon was yellow like the unripe cheeses made for midsummer. maybe it was a midsummer cheese run away and climbing higher and higher to avoid being eaten, i don’t know.
we both looked at it – the beautifully tasty patch of yellow amidst storm-troubled ink grey clouds.
the birch said, he was turning in early and why don’t i go home. i said, i like the moon, why don’t we watch it for a while, and then i go home and he does whatever it is the old birches do in october nights when wind is high. he kind of agreed, and we stood there, watching the moon rise.
then the cars and buses and other transport butted in on our silences. and i said goodbye and crossed the lanes, and went home.
because i. too cannot sleep when the moon is in my bed.