Last night I sat outside to watch the moon rise. I heard nature buzzing, louder as it got darker, the song seemed to chase the clouds away. The moon was shrouded while the sky was a dusty blue. As the dark of night set in, the sky turned black and the moon shined bright.
I am loving the last flowers of summer, the time when the moon rises, how earth feels on bare feet cool and wet after rain, the neighbors goats talking, and grey and white wool knitted together. It strikes some sort of chord that I cannot really describe. Almost as if those things, when finally experienced all together, lift the veil themselves.
