Las Barreras Full Moon

Two-thirty in the morning

full moon-howling

in this ghost town

woke me up.

I put my glasses on

and wandered

around the farm,

through row

after row

of olive

and almond trees,

soaking up this

late-spring

wee-hours-of-the-morning

moon

illuminating the mountains

and valley

and Orgiva in the distance.

I was appreciating the breeze

that was carrying away

that stagnant-water stench

from the Moorish channels

as I stared at the moon,

mesmorized

by the soundtrack

to this night sky.

But just then

Rosita the donkey

appeared out of nowhere

and stood there

staring at me for a moment

then,

I swear,

she joined me in admiring

the moons beauty

until she vanished

just as fast as she appeared.

Well,

when I looked over

I did see her walking away,

I suppose she just stopped by

to say hello

before she hit the hay.

Now,

standing all alone

between the olive

and almond trees,

thankful for the moon

and the cool breeze,

I listened quietly

to the music

in the distance,

happy it woke me

in the first place.

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