The moon came a little closer. I think the man who lives there was mildly curious about what had been keeping me. My visits to spy on him have been more rare these days.
It is awing, is it not? This relationship we form with the light God formed in the nighttime sky? We gaze at him in ways we are not allowed to with his older brother, the sun. He seems to enjoy the attention and changes his look to spur us on in our beholding. Sometimes he glows with the color he borrowed from the sun. Sometimes he is blue, silver, or eerily white. When he is full of himself, he shows his smiling face and we smile back. He’s infectious that way.
For me, his appeal comes with the memories we have shared. You may feel the same. It’s like watching a movie that seems to have stolen bits of your life and played them out for all of the world to see. You cry, not because of the character’s woes, but because their misery has pricked you with memory’s sharp thorn.
*I see my love, lit with lunar glow, bowing his head towards mine. The fields are almost clear as day and my gown glows as if heavenly. What romance can not succumb to such a setting? What heart can help but beat a little faster?
*The ocean beats upon the shore. Waves try to reflect the moon. Water, ever-changing, distorts its image but the abstract is just as lovely. Stars twinkle and wink, hoping to distract my attention.
*Lying spread out flat on St. Augustine mattress. The blackness above letting bits and pieces of heaven’s glory spark above me. Lightening bugs float starlike above the earth, on the same plane as me. My friend, The Man on the Moon, grins as my mother calls me to come inside.
He has been companion to midnight walks, camping trips, solitary swims, and cries in the abyss. His surface reflects his surroundings and his shape nightly transforms. He is a lot like me, only he is silent, rock-hard, and strong. He remains true to us all whether we pay him any attention, or not.
I am happy he came a little closer the other night. I’ll try to be more faithful in my nocturnal visits and more grateful for the moonlit memories.