I was born under a full moon

Which may explain my

Occasional lunacy

And tendency to take

Midnight moonlit walks during

That monthly insomnia

I get like clockwork

Sometimes I wonder if

It’s the extra night light of the

Full moon, but that doesn’t explain

The same effect on cloudy nights

Perhaps it is the extra gravitational

Pull at perigree, on our

Mostly water bodies –

Our own personal high tide

Making us restless.

Or is it just the irresistible

Magic world that seems to appear

On moonlit nights

That makes the night time

A rarely seen event

A place we usually don’t often venture

Where I’m bein’ followed by a moonshadow

Where I see the moon and the moon sees me

Where someone says, “Keep your pants on! Not THAT moon!”

Why don’t we call it a “moonth”

There are twelve moonths in a year.

I was born under a full moon

Which may explain MY

Occasional lunacy

What’s YOUR excuse?

She takes awhile to jog past me on the trail

But jog she does

I don’t see her face

Only her elderly body

And a set of incredibly muscular

Calves and I think

You GO girl!

The one leaving the coffee shop

In her colorful t-shirt

Cropped pants and

Athletic Shoes

Goes out and gets into a

Cherry Red Mustang

Pulls on her sunglasses

And is on her way

You GO Girl

When I am an old woman

I have no intention of wearing

Purple because it doesn’t look good on me

Nor a silly red floppy hat

But I might be out there jogging

Or cruising town in a hot car

It will be a ’64 t-bird

Jet black with a red and white interior

I’ll be pretty cool for a

Septegenarian

Still listening to classic rock

At full tilt. Younger women will

Look at me and think

You GO Girl!