Hill Country Poetry

written by Rob Thornton

Nothing much happened in Luckenbach this month, except the potato chip man came by.

… And then there was the moon.  We try to tell folks that come here to look at our town what a big, mean moon we have, but nobody will believe us.  And last night it showed off, the greatest ever.

It just hung there daring you to look at it, making silhouettes into things, and things came alive.  It even shone plum to the bottom of the canyon, under bluffs, and plopped dark donuts around the bottom of the trees on top of the mountain.

It’s the kind of moon that makes haunted houses uglier and ugly girls prettier and little old animals see farther and feel closer together.   Brave weeds rose up to look around for lawnmowers.

Grandpa sat up in bed and said, “What’s that?”  As the hair on Grandma’s legs stood on end he said, “On moonbright nights like this, big eyed deer tiptoe into larger openings and dance better ’cause they can see where the rocks are at.  And their dancing gets fancier and freer because they know man’s not there to dampen the dance.”

This kind of moonshine makes you crazy, they say if you sleep in it, but I think you’re crazy not to try it. Mama slept with the baby to protect it, and I flounced in bed even in a thick rock house.  When I went outside to see what was the matter, something scared cold chills up my back.

Everything was standing at attention over new shadows.  Then what was that that moved?  Just probably a nothing.

A big full moon is like a person.  It needs help to show off and last night all the clouds stayed home on purpose to create a great solo.  We can’t stand an encore.  Takes too much out of you.

Those who saw the moon said that they could smell it and one said that it tasted like sin.

… And the quietness of the parkside road was deafening.  And the little single couple sitting there touched the back of their hands together… Scare Me!

We’ve been telling strangers who come to Luckenbach about our moon, but I know, they won’t believe we have such a big moon for such a small town.

-Hondo Crouch 1916-1976