The Afternoon Moon
The Afternoon Moon
Grandmother reclines in the passenger seat,
while sunlight glows through her white wavy hair.
Her cheeks rosy, she smiles at me
as I drive east toward the Blossom Trail.
I beam back, then remember
my mask hides my mouth.
We pass some almond orchards,
the flowers like drops of warm vanilla cream
under the clear blue sky.
Grandmother remarks how some trees
already dropped their petals,
though it’s not even March.
A white half moon climbs the sky,
like it wants to get a jump start on night,
even if it’s only two o’clock.
It tries to rush away my Sunday,
my present moment, my time with Grandmother
into a whole week without her.
Will it hasten the day
she’ll move into assisted living,
where I won’t be allowed to see her?
Published in Song of the San Joaquin, Spring 2021 Issue
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