Catskill Mountains by Mitchel Montagna

The moon is shining above

the trees.

Its view is clear, the

night is blazing.

Something like a dream, lifting

us toward the stars.

We walk like ghosts between

sizzling lights in the sky.

 

Years of drought had

not yet come,

and turned these mountains

into dust.

Streams would wash

along the slopes,

feeding whispers

into lakes.

Every blinking star becomes

a diamond on the water.

Quietly we stood on shore,

the dark pool of sky

settled down.

 

Some return,

counting furrows

of ravaged earth

from when the rainfalls quit.

Distant memories, fogged

then changed, emerging

into fairy tales.

The moon is shining above

the trees.

Its view is clear, but

the earth has aged.

Summers cradled to our breasts

will burn like coal to emptiness.

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Mitchel Montagna has worked as a radio journalist, special education teacher, and corporate communicator. He is married and lives in Florida.