The Writer’s Moon


Last night I opened the door, encouraging Doodle dog to visit the pines before it was time for bed.  Cool, crisp air welcomed me.   So inviting it was, that I stepped onto my patio which was lit from above.  High in a sky of filtered shadows was the moon, round and bright.  Gazing up at this wonder, it shined like a beacon guiding ships through darkened seas during stormy weather.

This time of year I expect the moon to be painted in golden-yellow, the color of spaghetti squash picked while visiting a pumpkin patch.  A harvest moon, if you will.  Yet, last night the moon appeared bright white.  I wanted to reach up to pull it’s invisible chain of beads. On-Off…On…Off.  Like a switch to the bulb over my kitchen stove.  Even behind silken clouds waving in the wind, the moon seemed fluorescent, illuminating all of my surroundings.  A snapshot of what was to be.

Doodle dog and I wandered off to bed.  Wooden blinds were pulled tight, their cords dangling to the right.  Slippers tossed on the floor.  Soon under a quilt fluffing pillows stuffed with feathers.  One or two quills poking through.  It had been a long day and I was ready for sleep to blanket my dreams.

I tossed and turned for hours it seemed.  The moon of white would not let me be.  My bedroom was bathed in moonbeams!  There, to the right, was the source.  Slits and slats between window blinds hung from the wall.  When Doodle dog began to howl, I finally sat up.  Hopped out of bed to trudge down a hallway towards my office space.  There, a keyboard waited patiently atop my desk for fingers to tap letters upon a blank computer screen.  Suddenly words ebbed and flowed.  Like magic.

The moon disappeared without realization.  Morning sun began to rise in the east, not quite ready to show its face above the hill resting behind my home.  A new day began to dawn without a bit of sleep the night before.  Doodle dog followed me back to bed.  Light didn’t seem to matter anymore.  Lids closed over sleepy eyes before I was out.

An invisible chain of beads….Off…On…On…Off.

*photographs courtesy of Google

13 thoughts on “The Writer’s Moon

  1. I too was expecting the yellow-orange Harvest Moon but all I saw was white. What happened? Did we somehow get cheated of the gorgeous Harvest Moon this year? I am glad for you that you were able to write. And I do believe the moon helped you. 🙂 ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Some truth to all those tales about a full moon, isn’t there, Wanda? I wasn’t the only one up all night! Thanks for reading and commenting. Sleeping better now that the ‘lights’ are out! 😊

      Like

  2. Can’t help getting the feeling that the Moon was part of a moment, that you needed to see.
    It must have been beautiful to witness such a lovely moon, that gave you the feeling of trying to turn it on or off,
    either way It seems to have turned you to your computer to pen the words.
    Regards.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Beautiful words you write, Emu. Yes, a lovely moon-unexpectedly in white! It cast a spell on me, perhaps, to help the words flow that night. I don’t regret the lack of sleep. So rare a sight it was. Bless you and yours, Emu.

      Liked by 1 person

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