A Deep River Year - 2017

Last night was the Harvest Moon, the full moon closest to the autumn equinox. It was a night to go out and stand in the moonlight and feel the ancient magic that has filled a million nights for those who looked up into the starry sky to sing, or dream, or wish, or love. The moon has always had that effect on us, we whose feet are anchored to the earth. We feel the same ebb and flow of the tides as the seas, which are pulled and pushed by that great magnet in the sky. Social scientists have observed for generations the effect of a full moon on the moods and behavior of people. For example, hospitals see a rise in emergency admissions, and some of us know that old romantic tug, too. How many songs have been written about that old bewitching face in the sky?

One night a few years ago we heard that a total eclipse of the moon was imminent, and that because of atmospheric conditions it would be one of those rare "blood moons." That meant that at the moment of full eclipse. the moon would take on a shadowy red color. We didn't want to miss the effect, so my wife and I headed down to the Deep River Landing to watch the eclipse over the river in a sky untainted by streetlights and other ambient lighting. It was a beautiful, clear night, and as we sat on the hood of the car and waited for the celestial event to begin, another car arrived, then another, until finally the riverbank was filled with people all wanting to witness the blood moon. One of them pulled out her smart phone and began playing all the "moon songs" she could think of. And the whole crowd instantly joined in singing "Shine on, Harvest Moon," "Moon River," "Bad Moon Rising," "Fly Me to the Moon," "It's Only a Paper Moon," "Harvest Moon," "Moonshadow," "Blue Moon," "That Old Devil Moon," and on, and on. There, under the most beautiful, awesome Blood Moon, a strange community arose, and joy happened.

Harvest Moon

It is autumn,
when wild geese feel the irresistible urge
to wing far away 
to an unknown destination.
We feel it, too,
that stirring in the blood.
We come to a measuring of days:
the ticking of the clock to first frost,
the shadow of the growing darkness,
the smell of snow in the wind.
But it is also this:
that our days are short on this earth,
and beauty is a shining, glorious thing
that slips away, uncatchable.
And, love, too, asks of us everything,
and breaks our brave and tender hearts,
and stirs us even when we are old.
It is then we remember 
some sweet October night
when a face in a golden moon
looked down upon us 
with that inscrutable gaze
of delight and sadness
as we held each other fast,
thought the world would stand still
forever, for us,
even as we were already
winging our way 
to an unknown destination,
like October's geese.
But still, in autumn's years,
we feel the seasons turning, 
sense the tug of time.
and we look again 
for a big old moon
to fill our night.

--Timothy Haut