Enjoying the Moon

Pizza=intense indigestion=inability to focus=television. I'll try to catch up here tonight.

With no clouds to soften its light, and its brightness having driven away most of the stars, the lonely moon passed the night isolated, casting stark shadows and being barked at by dogs. It yellowed in its last hour, and called to mind pale honey. Even at its most austere, I find a certain sweetness in the moon. When it isn't honey, or ripe melon, or tangy tangerine, it is icy vanilla. I never lose my taste for it, even in the worst of times. It's good to know that it is unlikely to get away any time soon, and will always be there, swinging around the earth, playing with the planetary shadow, even when I can't see it. It's something I'll probably never get to touch, but is as present in my world as the mountains and streams and woods. For some reason, I find that comforting.

Quiet

As dusk gathered, a few stormy-looking clouds formed in the west. They lie. Not only is there clear weather ahead, but the temperatures will be rising into the summery eighties by the week's end. Tough times for Sluggo. Right now, I'm watching the gray masses vanish into the deepening darkness and pretending that they are storm clouds, and that a fresh spring rain will soon fall. Maybe I'll even turn the lawn sprinkler on, so I can listen the drops splattering and smell the dampness. If I can't have the real thing, at least I can have the illusion. I'm a bit disappointed that there has not been a single thunderstorm yet this spring. The distant rumble of thunder is a seasonal delight I miss. I do have a few evening minutes of crickets chirping, but the temperature drops so quickly with nightfall that they are soon silenced. Then it is only the frogs and the night birds who enliven the cool stillness. Oh, for a single thunderclap!