One Night

It was a typical summer night,

Streetlights haloed in the navy sky -

Filled with possibilities,

My soft shoes padded the surface of

The gray concrete of the sidewalk -

Its unevenness and roots larger than

I remembered -

The roots seemed to grow and blend into

And out of the street, which led in a spiraling curve

Toward a seemingly far-away-place.

As I walked forward, my path curved

Into the half-moon rising through the

Lean of the wild, cypress trees,

Hovering and moving up -

Lifting faster than I remembered

Any moon traveling before.

I looked at my watch and six hours

Had passed, but my second hand was no

Longer moving.

Then I saw a man in a heavily woven coat

And hat, a grandfatherly persona,

He took my hand and his covered mine,

I looked up at him, it was Monet.

We walked away under the bright light

Of the Moon.