The Meet

By Cliff Lake

 

The Meet

 

Lurching through forest, spirit strewn,

I chanced upon her: Woman Moon.

Silver-fragile, hard as the night,

Beckoned, led me to ancient rite.

 

An obscured path, the hidden glen,

A rabbit warren, foxes den.

Many creatures were gathered nigh,

Observed this man with measured eye.

 

No fear here, nor cause for alarm,

Austere Moon guards; keeps them from harm.

Here hidden in primeval defile,

Brought hence to answer to trial.

 

Then Woman Moon put forth the call:

“Here stands Man, to rise or fall!”

“Am I, just one man, to answer for all?”

“One man may serve this protocol.”

 

Then far off some bell did chime,

And we were separated from Time,

Then Woman Moon spoke with hardened shine,

Telling the tale of Mankind’s crime.

 

Long she spoke in forever night,

Of pine and oak and creatures plight.

Long I listened, and much heard,

‘Til she fixed her gaze on me: “Speak your word.”

 

I spoke of wonder and poor men’s need.

I spoke of plunder and rich men’s greed.

I spoke of worship and twisted belief.

I spoke of anger and widows grief.

 

I told tales of sorrowing mothers.

I regaled the anguish of abandoned brothers.

I turned to her and she said:

“Do the butterflies count their dead?”

 

“Your speech is full of Mankind’s sorrow.

Yet you think not of this earth’s tomorrow.

Little of your word can we heed.

We must attend to all life’s need.”

 

Then away from the circle was I sent,

With little doubt of what her words meant.

And to some private promise I have hewn,

That one at least can appease Woman Moon.

 

Woman Moon watches with cold eyes.

Under her our sin is not disguised.

She sent me back with this report:

“Be careful Man – your time grows short.”

 

Long I searched for that path again,

Long have I yearned for the sacred glen.

And I ofttimes will offer prayer,

When creatures regard me with knowing stare.

 

Cliff Lake 12/16/2025

Copyright © Clifford Lake 2025

Location: Wichita, KS, USA

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