Moon (Notevember 2021, #18)

No time like the present
You have to eat it while it’s a lunar crescent
The aroma is strange but pleasant
Tart, and almost effervescent
Once it waxes,
the taste will wane
What a waste of the arcane
labours required to produce this
marvelous fruit of many uses
Sure it’s flavorful
But it’s more than just a snack
See, way back
Some time in imaginary history
When maps were more blank spots and mystery
Than facts and certainty
When stories were everything
And nights were darker
They used to grow a different cultivar
Which served as a marker
for the path which souls took
to go from the Great Before to life, to be born
I read it in a book
in an antiques store
Cracked spine and pages worn…
Sorry, I got lost there for a second
I reckon there are a few more to spare
If you’d care to have another
No, no, don’t bother to share
I’ve had my fill already
Isn’t it odd, though, that some senses –
sight and hearing come to mind –
Dispense with pretenses
and make us blind
to the miracles we might find
if we choose to fool ourselves?
But then, taste and smell –
more primal, maybe –
they’re willing to tell us tall tales
I savor this… moon berry?
And it never fails:
My very own tongue has me convinced
That the fruit belongs in some long since
forgotten place
It never ceases to amaze me
Imagine that,
and have another bite of lunacy.