Driving around St. Louis
I notice the view of a nearly full moon
rising above the city,
the same shade of white as the light clouds
caught in evening sun.

As I turn south and leave the city behind me,
the shadows lengthen then fade away
in the deepening dusk between the hills
and along the cuts of the road.

The clouds pass and the moon gains its own brightness
huge and luminous above the woods and forests.
I keep studying the ridges and valleys,
hoping for a perfect scene to stop
and catch a picture of this evening’s glory.

This goes on for miles,
each curve, each rise, each hill
bringing still another hope for that picture
that will make it worth stopping
on the side of a busy road.

Finally, I look away toward the west,
and catch the last bits of color
from what might have been a stunning sunset
thirty minutes ago.
Now it is just a few wisps of pastel pinks
drifting slowly toward Illinois.

In these last embers of this day’s light,
I see sloping fields of hay or grass pasture,
a muted swipe of textured sheen,
then see in the last bit of light
a barely perceptible burnishing of the bristles
of tasseling corn growing west of the interstate.

It seems easy enough in life
To focus on the brightness of a full moon
or the splendor of a spectacular sunset,
the power of a thundering waterfall,
yet end up missing the quiet splendor
of a hundred other things,
much more subtle yet equally beautiful.

It is a good thing to be deliberate,
to not be overly absorbed in one thing
to the neglect of others,
to admire and appreciate the majesty of mountains
yet still gape and wonder
as light fades in the valley of a small, stone-bed creek
meandering toward night in the dying light of a good day.


H. Arnett
6/24/24