Harvest Moon 2005

The sedan exited the tunnel, middle of October, a couple hours before sunrise.
Eyes adjusted, two sweeping curves later gazed upon the Harvest Moon�s reflection
on the ship trails east of the Golden Gate.
Swaths of water less salty than the rest, therefore lacking the friction to feel the breeze, stretched and twisted, glassy paths on a textured bay.
Currents had given life to the trails, formed them into s curves.
The world shone silver and it was catching. The moonlight sparked my mind,
an awareness of the Monday morning world around me spread down my spine,
along my leg bones, out through every toe, toes turned into colorful spotlights,
danced like fire hoses with no tenders.
The trees to either side of the highway let me know they felt it too, and the crawling creatures in the soil, an electrical cycling usually reserved for the dawn.
Vision sharpened to pierce the surface of the bay,
see the sharks and rays basking, and beyond them,
into the mud below where bones and fossils danced to the Harvest Moon,
suicides and dinosaurs, fish skeletons and diatoms reached out from the darkest depths. The Bay Bridge in the foreground rippled and shivered while the western skyline called to mind Aphrodite reclined and awake.
My October thus shifted.
Lunar inspirations rebuilt me,
from the core of Earth out past the edges of the Milky Way.
I rolled the windows down. The air had no bite but rather a caress,
a tropical essence that had me smelling fruit and sensing nearby tigers,
soft warm and sharp with no malice.
That was when the fur began to grow on my own belly, my palms grew calloused pads, fingernails became sharp and long.
Was I becoming a wolf? Nay, but a wolverine yes,
and how my shifting bones and tendons did ache with the strain.
My blood thickened and eyes shrank, horizons forever shifted.
Gratitude for the present lit my being;
I glanced back at the sedan and saw that my trail of silver footprints lit up the garage.