A pale moon, full and wraithlike in the early morning sky. Like a beautiful woman who has unwittingly walked into a surprise party where she was expecting stillness and solitude. The day, with its loud colors and steadily building momentum seems suddenly rude, indelicate by comparison. I want to stop and step out of the car, sit on the pavement, lean against a tree and look into that luminous, inscrutable silver face, that seems strangely cloud-like by the light of day. The sky around her is ashes of roses and the faintest lilac. Everything in her aura speaks of serenity, is an invitation to linger. It feels faintly ridiculous to ignore the summons, to stand up the rarity of a morning-time moon for another appointment. But there you have it. I am more than faintly ridiculous many times a day, and only slightly redeemed for being well aware of the fact.
May 31, 2022