A Walk On The Moon

a creative writing assignment!

Pure canistered oxygen, good old Oh-Two,

catches in your chest as you catch your first glimpse of

The lunar soil- it’s a gray, glassy,

gritty snow made of solid rock: sand beaten down by

Storms of other rocks and not the tide. On Earth it would crunch;

footprints of your forebears, unchanged by time,

Somehow unchanged by the multitude of meteors,

are dalmatian spots on the not-earth- once soundless leaps, bounds

For mankind. And then- in the sky,

tinier

and yet larger than you’ve ever seen, at least in terms

Of scale- a blue marble, tinged with ice and fire and forest:

Your home. Homesick can’t begin to describe what you feel,

and yet, each swimming stroke of a step, heavy

In its own way, makes you feel freer than ever before.