Midsummer moonlight

Overlooking the river, I spent the evening drinking a beer and writing in my notebook, at times staring at the white and yellow spots of dancing light on the dark green river. The yellow light came from the late sunset sky behind the thick hedges full of little creatures tip-toeing about between brambles. A little swarm of midges wobbled above the lit up ripples.

An American lady was talking loudly (‘Am I talking to loud?’ she asked us). She was talking about age, women’s rights and politics to a young twenty year old. ‘I’m thirty six! What’s it like to be twenty?’, she asked the twenty year old. His fumbling response reminded me.

I wrote a bit more and stared a bit more at the river. All those answers, all those questions.

I walked back homeward bound, all the way along the river’s curve to Midsummer Common. The sky was now a strange and rich vibrant blue, like an ink wash. Then I caught sight of the huge full moon perfect and outstretched in the sky forcing me stop, capturing and deliberately overwhelming me with awe and emotion.

I walked into the long, uneaten hay on the common and I sat myself down near the centre of the field. Bats flew above and around me. Their movements seemed so true and playful. There was something innocent and baby-like about them.

I lay down into the grass and rested my head to look up at the sky.

It was late and I had to head home. So many things to do.

I had to leave. But the moonlight pushed me back. All I wanted to do was lie in the moonlight watching the bats fly past the moon. I wanted to lie there till day break.

That’s all I wanted to do.