In this episode, Father’s Moonlit Walk . . .
by: Patrick Ball
The moonlit night, a silent scene,
A tranquil hour, serene and keen.
I sit alone, a cup held tight,
Lost in the past, a fading light.
A gentle breeze, a solemn prayer.
I think of Dad, a man of grace,
A loving heart, and a smiling face.
We’d wander the woods, a father's pride,
A loyal hound, by our side—
the forest's depths, a mystic sight,
A starry sky, a beacon bright.
Through fields of gold, we’d make our way,
A rustic path, a golden ray.
The hound would bay, a mournful sound,
A treetop chase, on hallowed ground.
A simple joy, a treasured sight,
A father's love, a guiding light.
A memory's warmth, a gentle hand,
A timeless bond across the land.
. . . Welcome back to On the Fly. This rambling was triggered by a fleeting thought while driving home from work the other night.
The sun was setting over the Pacific Ocean as we drove South on the 5 Freeway, just entering the conservation area at Camp Pendleton. Scattered clouds highlighted the pinkish-orange sky to the east, while a full moon rose above the mountain range that outlines the coast.
“This reminds me of raccoon (coon) hunting with Dad as a boy,” I said to Lori.
“What does?”
“That full moon in the sky, painting it with vibrant colors at sunset.”
We would load Ranger, Dad's most dependable Coon Hound, into the truck, gather the flashlight and carbide lights, and prepare to head into the woods. By the time we arrived, it would be dark. Dad would turn Ranger loose, and as excited as ever, he would start running, snuffling, snorting, and taking in all the scents around him.
With the bright moon, we needed no light to walk in the woods. It was magical. Click the link to read Christmas Eve with Dad.
Anyway, the following day, this poem came to mind while reading poetry by Edgar Guest and sitting in my easy chair with the same full moon just outside my living room window.
I’m Patrick Ball; thanks for listening; see you in the next episode.
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