Friday, December 5, 2014

Long Night Moon

Long Night Moon
Composite photograph by Michael Douglas Jones ©2014





    Midnight of the long night moon, and like far away thunder, the battery wagons rumble across the train track, south of the railroad cut; you stir slightly in your pinewood cot, beneath a worn, but warm, wool blanket. Your redtick hound lifts her ears, but does not bark. The crick crackle of the fireplace settles you back to sleep, after a weary day of the world at war.

    I place my artillery at the crest of the distant ridge, and wait until the light of predawn. The first shell drifts left, hitting the well house; the second takes the chimney, collapsing brick and mortar, sending oakwood smoke and flame through your room, until all that is left is ember and ash. Your redtick hound howls, but does not leave you. You keep your silence and stand, with no surrender, accepting the smoke and flame.

    I know this, because I am you, and the deeper demons at work here, beneath the long night moon. I am the hunter; I am the hunted. Logic is my lantern, and yet, I lift the linstock and light the slow match.


    Tonight, I return home after this weary day of war, the road north of the railroad cut well lit by the waning moon at my back. My cot is cold and old pinewood; the fire is welcome and warm. My redtick hound sleeps at my side, and stirs only slightly at the sound of far away thunder.







6 comments:

  1. i keep going back to read this once more time. and i find that this is me, that the far away thunder never seems to stop. it is now and it was then, and it is, i fear, tomorrow. another weary day.

    god, you are good.

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  2. I could read this 10 times and find more and more here. Beautiful and compact.

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  3. I really enjoyed your wordplay...your writing brought to mind John Prine (who is an amazing songwriter) and when I say that, know that there is no higher praise from me. I especially loved the title for your autumn project, "Written Reciepts for Paid Attention"...egads, that's brilliant.

    Well done, sir. Very well done.

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  4. "I am the hunter; I am the hunted." These words jump right out at me, and your words: they are always magic. xo

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  5. I am transported. Transfixed.
    This is your magic.

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  6. what a beautiful weaving of words.

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