Washing In Moonlight Poem by JAMES T. ADAIR

The evening is crisp and cool
The large Fall moon forrms a bright backlight
against the grey and white clouds
moving like ghosts
Through the dark starlit sky

A moonshadow casts over me
I breath in the evening air
and realize I've been working
All day, through dinner
Working with tools
hammers and wrenches
and lost track of time

I smell like gear oil
and solvent
and my hands are sore
and banged up
I've been disassembling
inspecting and repairing a transfer case
for a 4-wheel drive truck

I know this isn't the stuff of romance
I hear my own footsteps
on the cement walkway
and think I almost see my breath
I breath in deep and then
sigh a lonely sigh

My hands are dirty
covered in grime
In the moonlight
I wash up with and scrub
and rinse under a faucet
the wather is soothing
and the job completed
is satisfying

But its a lonely satisfaction
One I wish could be shared
In my mind I walk into another home
somewhere
Where there is caring and appreciation
and warm conversation
and someone interested in my little accomplishment

I'd like to tell someone
about the broken bolt and what trouble it caused
or the seal that didn't quite fit
or the snap-riing I accidentally left off
or how I figured out why the gearbox was skipping
and how I restored it to new condition
or how I'm worried about the future
and why my heart is hurting

I'd love to relax in a big easy chair
and you'd come sit near me and kiss me
and massage my aching hands
and I look up at your eyes and see caring
I know my heart would melt
A man really does need a companion
without one he'll grow weary
and will lose hope

I sigh again as I open the screen door
and come in from the dark
and realize I'm losing hope
and growing weary.
But my hands are sore tonight
and the little cuts are stinging
but they long for your imagined caress

2008 © James T. Adair