The Moon ~ Of Corn Fields and Shooting Stars

When I was small, I had an alarm clock with two pixies on a seesaw that rocked back and forth as the seconds passed.  Behind the pixies and the glade on which they played their nocturnal game, rose a turreted castle under a night sky filled with stars and a crescent moon. I can remember the stars and the moon glowing in the dark beside my bed, but because the pixies where not decorated with luminous paint, only the ticking of the clock betrayed their unseen rocking.

       

 

 

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I have always been fascinated by the hours between dusk and dawn; when the  blue lid of the sky has been removed and I am only a gravity-switch away from flying into an infinity of stars and planets.  I can remember one magic night, more years ago than it seems, lying in a corn-field with a girl whose name I remember but will not share.  We had spent the evening in a country-pub, the sort with horse-brasses down either side of an open hearth and a ceiling festooned with pewter tankards.  When at last “Time” was called, we walked across the moon-silver countryside, until we found ourselves in a  field where the late august corn rose above our knees.  I can remember spreading my jacket over the corn stalks so that we could lie together and look into the curved infinity – in love with infatuation.  The goddess hung in a clear star-filled sky, with only a few smokey clouds passing over her oval face – and the corn sang. 

I will never forget that night. The girl and the moon became the same in the romance of my mind.  We lay quietly and watched a shooting star curve above us, followed by another and yet again, until the jealous clouds gathered and the goddess faded from our view.

Some weeks later I received a letter, full of corn-fields and shooting stars, but we never met again.  If the moon was a galleon on-course to Neverland, we were also ships that passed that night, on our separate journeys to our different destinations. 

Whenever I look at a harvest moon I remember. 

O Fortuna                           O Fortune,
velut luna                          like the moon
statu variabilis,                   you are changeable,
semper crescis                      ever waxing
aut decrescis;                      and waning;
vita detestabilis                   hateful life
nunc obdurat                        first oppresses
et tunc curat                       and then soothes
ludo mentis aciem,                  as fancy takes it;
egestatem,                          poverty
potestatem                          and power
dissolvit ut glaciem.               it melts them like ice.

Carl Orff – Carmina Burana

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~ by soulmerlin on October 13, 2007.

One Response to “The Moon ~ Of Corn Fields and Shooting Stars”

  1. I teared up over this one as well and felt richer for having read it. In my life I have known and lost such sweetness and am a deeper person for it. And I sitll know such sweetness in my life, through so many people, nature and…just living. Life is so beautifully mysterious. Thank you for such a beautiful piece written from your soul.

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