Clare's Moon

 

A bright, clear night; the moon rides high.

Thin clouds racing past the shining disk which scans the landscape with pale intensity.

Passing over limestone country, the Hanglands are below.

Part of John Clare’s lost Heath; now an oasis in an arable land.

Clare, versing in his head, walked from Helpston to be alone in this green space.

Escaping from villagers who thought him strange - a lunatic!?

Tonight, the moon tracks a car following the road Clare took one hundred and fifty years before.

Head lights challenging the moon’s gaze; it stops by the path to the Heath,

No longer a green lane; one hedge grubbed out to extend the crop.

The moon lights on two people emerging from the car, escaping from a noisy party.

Like Clare - they too want to be alone.

Nearby, a little owl picks up beetles fallen from an overhanging oak, a badger scratches and a deer barks.

The two young people thrill at the night sounds.

Then, still listening, hand in hand, they quietly take the path.

She enticed to adventure by his promise of a nightingale singing.

It does - it sings from the bushes by a glade.

The clear, mellifluous notes float up to the moon and enchant the couple - now close together, joined in love.

Warm skin gleams in moon’s silver light.

As the sounds of their bodies quieten, the throb of the nightingale’s song fills their ears again, heightening their happiness.

Beaming, the watching moon contemplates this scene, remembering Clare and his love were here before, and others too, seduced by the solitude and the song.

The moon rides on over woods and fields and sleeping villages to reveal more of life below, caught in its steady light.

Roger Mitchell

Image by Ganapathy Kumar