The Day After a Lunar Eclipse
by Linda Leedy Schneider
She wakes to birdsong
Last night at 10:15
She went alone to her window.
and looked west with the wonder of childhood.
She remembered the light, the orange,
and the grapefruit in second grade
where her teacher, Miss Kettle, held all
the class in her embrace of enthusiasm.
Yellow shades covered the tall windows
of that classroom in Sibley School.
The only light shone from a flashlight
onto the fruit and reflected on Miss Kettle's face.
That night she could not find the moon.
though she ran through the orchard,
the garden, and the clover-filled lawn.
Last night she saw it, clear orange disc,
faint outlines of the face of the man, disappearing.
She remembered twelve years ago,
a beach house in Saint Marten.
She went to the window alone,
sad because her man slept.
She could hear him restless
in their bed. It was 2:30 AM.
That night she thought of packing
and leaving-- finding that man
who would look in wonder
with her at lunar eclipses,
the first peony, the last leaf.
Today a cardinal is on the evergreen,
like flame on a green candle.
And she knows she can thrill
to the bird, its song, the candle,
on this white canvas of snow alone,
alone with the same husband
still sleeping in her bed.
Previously published in The Heartland Review
Linda Leedy Schneider is a poetry and writing mentor, writing workshop leader, psychotherapist in private practice, and recipient of a Pushcart nomination. She has written five collections of poetry including Through My Window: Poetry of a Psychotherapist and edited two collections of poetry by writers she has mentored, Mentor’s Bouquet by Finishing Line Press and Poems From 84th Street from Pudding House Publications.
