Because I didn’t like the prompts and four is an unlucky number
That fall night in Shin-matsudo
Walking home along the
ripening onion fields
turning a corner to find the harvest moon
blocking the path ahead.
So large it could have landed like a sideways saucer
So close I could reach out and fall into its cold fire, but
my path was to the left
my destination home.
Years have gone
leaving the memory of
Basking in the
burning light of a Japanese red moon, and
choosing to rest in my own bed rather than
following the call of fire
venturing to other worlds — or
drowning in the flames.