Summer night in Maine, orb of flame
Six-year-old Alex and I walk down sidewalk
cracked by the weather
the radiance of the blood moon
lights our way.
A time-worn cemetery lines the right side;
we keep our eyes
open for ominous spirits.
Pass a rusted-out tractor,
a sign for fresh corn, a farm stand,
A barn owl perched and at the ready
We wander back towards our cabin;
hands interlocked, hear the static of a television
through open windows.
My husband washes dishes in the sink
I fumble for the key
Alex takes one last look at the sky
as I turn the knob.