Moonbeam Dream

A poem which was inspired by an early evening December walk with my son when the moon was full. A few minutes after leaving the house, it started to rain and the old (Tudor) part of the village looked really weird as did many of the people rushing around or sheltering outside the pub.

Moonbeam Dream

Let’s walk a while beneath full moon

Bright as days of sunless weeks

So strange the rainclouds gathering soon

As cold caresses dampened cheeks

We pound the pavements of parish street

Where few are the walkers that welcome give

Wet weather dulls the desire to greet

These villagers who know the lives we live


And expect little more from passing strangers

Than that they might simply wish us well

Light on face reflects imagined dangers

As in the gruesome tales pub talkers tell

These fleeting feelings are real yet as eerie

As the shadows cast by moonlight beaming

On fluttering leaves and stragglers weary

Amidst windblown water on pavements gleaming


Rooftop raindrops fall before us

Reflecting rays of a now-darkened sun

Footsteps chant a raucous chorus

As commuters crushing homeward run

From station to warmth of family dinner

Though they may not be what they may seem

How can one tell the saint from sinner

In conscience stream of moonbeam dream?


Beyond the churchyard, talking loudly

As water drips from plastic gutters

A group of people protest too proudly

Then one of them an oaf-oath utters

Laughter breaks the menacing mood

Then all shake hands in comforting rite

And return inside the pub for food

As we continue by celestial light


On beyond the rows of gardens

To where the street becomes a road

Though our resolve to take fresh air hardens

We must return to our safe abode

Praise be to the moon for letting us see

The bridge that crosses the rising stream

Grateful to be walking free

In this rain-filled, weak-willed, moonbeam dream