The Reckoning

Again, a strange lone finger
Is pointing at the moon.
A lone dark finger

That I first saw back in June.

I remember how I noticed it,

I remember where and when.

This lone dark finger

Has been back and forth since then.

Once again it’s here tonight,

And beckoning at me

To look at or follow something

That I perhaps don’t care to see.

The lone dark finger points and waits,

I make neither breath nor sound.

I do no more than stand and stare,

Feet frozen to the ground.

Another year’s now ending,

A time far away from June.

And the finger keeps on waiting.

For my response - and soon.

I think I should have stayed indoors

So I wouldn’t have to see

That lone strange finger

Still beckoning at me.

But I cheat myself if I believe

I could remain un-found,

The finger knows all hiding places.

It’s best I stand my ground

And wait to see how close it gets

This reckoning, beckoning sight.

Wait to see if it moves on,

To return some other night.