Monday, January 13, 2025, 12* Moonlight
If I were not holding my breath, if I exhaled circles -- carbon dioxide would be visible, float for a while, disperse, perhaps freeze, fall, shatter. I was holding my breath I can only suppose. Would a tripod extend its legs coming out here? Would a shutter release? Would hands clasp; fingers refuse to move? Luna runs through the sky; to meet her lover? To evade Soleil? Perhaps she thinks Mariah chases her today.
Last night stars. Clouds. Luna. Was she disappointed that snow offers her no gift of reflection? Does she prefer the waters of summer where she shimmers? What does she know of everyday things? Of coffee, now in the cooling realms. Does she like dogs? Does she get tired of doing the same thing? Is she looking for change? Are you?
My soul, wait in stillness, only for God—
for from Him comes my expectation.
He alone is my rock and my salvation,
my strong tower—I will not be moved.
Psalm 62: 6-7 Tree of Life Version
Photo: LJ Austin
