Thoughts of Fancy on a Cold Moonlit Night

In the moonlight
the rooftops glow like crystal beads
against the silver blue velvet sky.
In the night
the breeze is cold yet amorous
caressing everything on its path.
Any minute now
the fog would descend from the mountains.
The world would fall into a deep frosted slumber.
Hauntingly beautiful it seems to me.
I don’t want to sleep just yet
if only to gather
a handful of this magical moment–
there won’t be
a night like this
in the wet months ahead.

Tonight
I am reminded of Ray Bradbury’s
April Witch.
Like Ceci,
I long to shot into the night
past the golden prairies;
hover at windows
illumined by tiny lamplights;
listen to ecstatic protestations of love
as they mingle with the shrill of the night;
hop from leaf to leaf
till I am one with the dew;
in exhaustion, collapse inside the well.

At daybreak
a girl with sun-kissed cheeks and hands roughened by work
would draw water from it and drink me in.
I would feel her thirst
note her every gulp
and linger inside her for awhile.
I would watch the look of love
on Thomas’ face as he hold her hands
on their way from the dance.
I would make her love Thomas back,
that guy with a sandy mop of hair
and a big easy grin.

How wonderful it would be
if I were Ceci,
the April Witch.
I would go witching
even in the wet months
of November.
I would fly
as far as the wind
would take me.
Back to one May day eve
where the young Agueda
stood at the mirror
a candle in her hand,
taunting the looking glass
to reveal the man she would marry.
Put a spell on her
as Señor Montoya entered the room,
his face reflected in the mirror
so that as soon as he said,
“A beauty like yours has no need
for the light of the candle, fair one,”
she would have turned to him and answered,
“Yes, with you beside me, señor,
there is no need for one,”
rather than glared,
eyes full of loathing and disgust,
in her deathbed decades later.
Nick Joaquin’s May Day Eve
would have been a lot different.

So many things to do
had I been Ceci,
the April Witch.
I would concoct the strongest glue
to keep hearts
from breaking apart.
I would make blankets
from the softest wool
to protect children from cold
as they sleep on the sidewalks.
I would fly
every lost and discontented soul
to the clouds–
they could see life below
in all its dazzling splendor!
I would call upon the mighty winds of the East
to cleanse the world
of the stench of greed.
humans would have looked a lot different
with a little love in their hearts.

But then,
there are no shortcuts to happiness.
The world must fall into a deep,
frosted slumber
before it could bask in the sun again.
Man must first live his fears
before he could see light
at the end of the tunnel.
So, goodnight moon,
goodnight breeze,
and those ecstatic protestations of love
in the air.
In this hauntingly beautiful night,
I would soon be sound asleep
dreaming of the April Witch.