I stepped outside for a moment, simply to catch a breath on my porch, and I saw that slivered Moon scooting behind those shivery clouds. In a brief half-second I felt Her eons, Her aged gravitational tumble, Her pained and painted-on pagan sins of yore, Her holy rejoinder of light against the darkness, Her catechism of magic, and the cold empty doctrine of Her orbital destiny.
I closed my eyes for a moment, to shut out Her history... to try and catch that breath... But She would not relent. She was insistent, pulling my eyes open and up and She offered me her memories and begged in Her dry eternal voice to allow me Her touch.
I accepted. Felt Her fear as our rockets bruised Her dusty flesh upon their uninvited landings and scarred her with their burning departures.
When I had taken it all in, She disappeared behind one of those shivery clouds and I was able to catch that breath I had almost forgotten I had meant to take.
I watch for Her nightly now. Even when She is obscured by clouds or maybe just on the other side of this earth-she-cannot-touch, Her eternal dance partner. I open my eyes and gaze up. With awe and wonder and respect to let Her know that in my small gravitational way that there is at least One son here who thinks of her and who understands and appreciates her tidal Motherhood
who smiles beneath Her transient reflection, holding that light dear, and who, in turn, reflects some of that light back to Her, with promised eye.