WANING MOON

The moon is down to a sliver, and reminds me of nail clippings on the counter in the bathroom as a kid, or worse, underfoot. But it's soft in the night sky, offering pale light to the sea of stars.

It's the waning of summer. My hollyhocks building seed forts and the wild mullien stalks tower over my head with their tiny yellow flowers. The huckleberries are suddenly in the valley thanks to the hands and effort of numerous staunch souls who have risked bears, heatstroke and mosquitoes to pick them, one by one. The cross walks are newly painted, and the kids are having their last fling on the rides at the county fair. The plums haven't ripened, but the sour cherry tree stands only in green with no bright cherries, thanks to the hungry birds. The elderberries outside my office window draw goldfinches and grossbeaks. Even the lawn has slowed down much to the chagrin of my grandson who has earned his spending money mowing it this summer.

My many trips out of town are coming to a close. There's only three left. Tuesday we'll head to the Missouri with a minimum of supplies and clothes, raingear and sleeping bags to canoe from Coal Banks to Judith Gap, stopping to hike every day. (We'll see the new moon before we return.) Then comes a quick dash to Spokane to check out my son's new rehab facility. Finally a short weekend in October takes me to Kalispell for a writer's conference. Last time I went (2 years ago) an agent was excited about MEDICINE ROCK. (I couldn't believe my good fortune.) Now it's for sale in book stores, on Amazon, and I feel a deep sense of satisfaction that it's "out there" in the world.

Soon the Going Within Time, winter, will be upon us and my gadabout nature disappears. The interior world calls for me to explore, restore and rest. I suspect all this traveling (and not writing) this summer will lead to more poems, maybe some short stories, and maybe the beginning the of the next book. I think of it every day and imagine the creative process: what shape? how long? what characters? Another lively adventure, taking place while I sit in one spot, glancing at the browning bushes and bare trees.

I'm a trifle sad to see the flowers waning, loving beauty as I do. But I can embrace the Beauty Within for the next few months!