Tonight I went out to Fiasco Winery at Ruch. I have good friends that work there. The Chef flies in fresh fish from Hawaii and grills it on a salt block. I wanted a draft beer and a healthy meal in a safe place where I could take my dog. I figured if I sat near Chef Jesse and his kitchen he would look out for me.
Ruch holds a special place for me in my memories. All three of my boys went to school at Ruch. We swam in the Applegate River and drove the back roads for the adventure. So driving to Ruch can be bittersweet with memories.
We had our meal and it was very good. Fresh swordfish with baby summer vegetables. Desert was grilled peaches in a lavender sauce on top of vanilla icecream. Queenie enjoyed the icecream also.
As I was getting ready to leave the full moon was rising in the east. It is supposed to be a super moon this weekend where the moon will seem brighter and bigger. It was breathtaking and brought to mind an earlier poem I had written. Rubicon Moon. I think like all good literature it transcends time and can be applicable to different time frames. I am not saying my poem ranks up there with Dover Beach but in my mind Rubicon Moon has now a new meaning for me. Just as I am sure it will have a different meaning for me in the future.
I like the poem. I like the way it expresses my feelings. I like the way it has transcended the moment it was written about. I will always have Rubicon Moons.
Full Moon Rubicon
(to do something that commits you to a particular course of action)
Habits of mind.
You've disturbed my sense.
I can't breath for the desire.
And you are so far away.
I look at that moon.
I would be that shard of light.
"Can you see the full moon?"
My words are careless
in its light.
I can't get them to refract, bend or shape
I am oblique in moonlight,
sloping and slanting in beams
in the night sky.
that bend the waves of light
at the edge of mountains
(catching beams in their gnarly teeth)
redistributing my energy,
scattering it on the high plains.
And would you gather up that dust of me?
Or leave me in drifts of prairie grass?
I am invisible.
The light sears
Wraps a stroke,
finger cold in moonlight.
Your touch leaves a phosphorus trace,
Patterns of a Luna moth flying silent
under the radar in the night.
My heart on the beams of refracted light,
Irregular, off beat,
Death strokes my brow,
Caresses my body,
I decay at a touch...