TheBanyanTree: BY THE LIGHT OF THE SILVERY MOON-A Short Story

[smack58 at nycap.rr.com]

Thank you so much.  I think I still have a poem about him.  I will have to look. If I do, I will post it.

Sharon
---- Woofie <woofie at WOOFESS.COM> wrote: 
Oh Sharon, you have outdone yourself with this writing!:) It is beautifully 
evocative and the imagery is so visual and I do want to know more of Paul:)
W:)





-- 

Best regards,

Woofie mailto:woofie at woofess.com



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-----Original Message----- 
From: smack58 at nycap.rr.com
Sent: Tuesday, September 20, 2011 9:44 PM
To: A comfortable place to meet other people and exchange your own 
*original*writings.
Subject: TheBanyanTree: BY THE LIGHT OF THE SILVERY MOON-A Short Story

BY THE LIGHT OF THE SILVERY MOON
by Sharon A. Mack

Late autumn and Mother Nature has once again changed her costume. She is 
preparing for winter snows, covering the earth in a blanket of leaves now 
turning brown bit by bit.   I walked along the leaf-strewn path, under the 
yellowed maples and red stringy leaves of the Staghorn Sumacs that drank 
deeply from the river’s edge.  Swaying pine boughs mix in behind and between 
the smaller trees casting their dark shadows along the way.  Twilight’s 
purple light has just begun.

I take the dogs to walk here when time allows.  I love to watch them adjust 
to each season’s temperatures and their surroundings, bounding through the 
not yet grown grasses and budding shrubs in spring, the tall grasses in 
summer, and the now, crispy crunchy leaves of autumn.  They snuffle and roll 
and play, so happy to be outside, stretching their freedom for all it is 
worth.

After play is done, we move to the center of the park and enter the formal 
gardens.  No residue of summer’s green remains. The flowerbeds are growing 
as brown and gray as the rest of the park.  I find a seat on one of the cold 
stone benches. The pups are back on their leashes and they have become quiet 
and companionable, lying down upon my feet with muzzles resting on their 
front paws.  I sit back against a lone tree that is close to the edge of the 
bench and close my eyes, allowing my mind to drift…to remember the many 
weddings that have taken place here. Some of the memories are of friends, 
some of strangers that I watched from afar.  I let the evening breezes chill 
my cheeks and enjoy the sensation.  Suddenly, out of nowhere, I remember 
Paul. I don’t want to at first and I try to brush him from my mind, but he 
stays.  He will not leave.  At last I give in and relax and let the memories 
come.

We had come to this spot many years ago.  I can see him now.  Strong and 
full of life, his dark hair falling low over his brow, smiling at me with 
his jaunty, crooked smile.  I think I can even smell him.  He is on the 
breeze and I warm to the memory.  I sense the excitement of him all over 
again.  I remember the satin of my gown, the Tulle and satin bows that 
adorned it and my veil, and the daisies braided through my hair.  We are so 
young; we are so innocent.   I watch from my memory’s distance as he plucks 
a bow from under my veil after the ceremony before he kisses me.  I stop to 
take a deep breath and then he kisses me at last… tenderly just before he 
touches the bow to his lips.  Paul smiles at me, stuffing the bow into his 
breast pocket.  I wonder now what happened to that bow and as I wonder, Paul 
disappears and I am suddenly cold.

The dogs suddenly become restless. I open my eyes and see that darkness has 
come.  The moon and stars shine brightly in the cold black sky.  The light 
cast on the leaves and branches make them appear silver and gray.  I gather 
the pups and take up their leashes.  I don’t want to leave my thoughts 
behind, but there is no help for it.  They are as cold as the night now.  I 
turn slowly toward the path when something catches my eye….a small white 
satiny glint that is barely visible under the pale light of the moon. It is 
half hidden beneath a large maple leaf, a leaf that is so unlike the others 
that it draws me to it.  I kneel and pick up the small satin bow and realize 
that the leaf it was under is still the bright green of summer.